


At The Beginning

by Babybucky1943



Series: History of the Winter Soldier [2]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Gen, Incontinence, M/M, Mentioned Abuse, Rumlow loves the Asset, Somewhat forced Age regression, diaper changes, soiled diapers(non graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-03-08 22:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babybucky1943/pseuds/Babybucky1943
Summary: When Brock met the Asset the first time, he wasn’t sure how to react. He wasn’t even sure what he’d expected. Whatever he’d thought the Asset would be, it wasn’t this....this long haired, brainwashed dude.





	1. Orders

The year was nineteen ninety. Brock Rumlow was nineteen. Fresh off the army base, hotheaded as they come. Special forces intelligence operations, trained and ready to be sent out, even eager. 

He stood at attention with the rest of his team of special ops. The captain paced in front of the short line, eyeing them sharply. “Jones! You’re being sent to the 115th regiment. Report to Colonel Myers.” 

The young private gave a quick nod and hurried away. 

Captain Travers continued to look at them. “Brenner, what’s your status?” The young private had been in medical for three days.

“Ready to move out, Sir!” The chosen private answered with a salute. 

He handed the young man a formal piece of paper. “You are assigned to navy special operations. Your superior is Colonel Trainor.”

Brenner saluted again and left. 

Brock watched as each of the others was assigned to a special ops team and sent out. He turned his dark eyes on the captain. He was standing at attention but didn’t bother to hide the smirk on his face. He’d seen the looks the captain had given him the last few weeks. Like he had passed tests he hadn’t known he was doing. 

“Rumlow.” The captain spoke softer now. “You’ve shown exceptional skill and intelligence in your division. Ive been ordered to assign you to a covert op that requires a man that can lead, give orders and follow directions.”

Brock cocked one eyebrow slightly. “Pierce already had me pegged, Sir,” he said with a hint of disdain. “Why?”

He wasn’t one to show his eagerness prematurely and he wasn’t going to let on that he might be happy about the special job. 

Captain Travers studiedthe arrogant, dark haired, dark eyed private. “You came in the top on the performance scale for this op.”

“Duties, sir?” Brock drawled, appearing not to care.

“Security for Secretary Alexander Pierce.”

Brock scowled his immediate disappointment. A fucking security guard?? He’d seen Secretary Pierce at several points during training. 

The man had watched him go through his training exercises and then watched him perform with the team. Pierce had spoken to him once or twice and had laughed when he’d given him some lip. 

He had been called on to “organize” a special ops mission one day. Not entirely unusual but he’d been given some strange directives to work with. He’d passed. Pierce had ordered him to the office and he’d been assigned higher duties. 

“Why sir?” He asked bluntly, turning back to the present task. He was too highly trained for security. 

The captain didn’t look pleased with his questions but he didn’t get angry. Pierce had chosen this kid personally. 

Also, Brock Rumlow was his strongest special ops trainee. 

“He needs someone who can keep his mouth shut. He will show you where he wants you when you prove yourself trustworthy.” 

Brock stared silently at the captain for several long moments. It was obviously more than security work. Must just be the formal title. Once again his interest was piqued. “Can you give me a hint, sir?” He asked, smirk back in place. 

Travers wished Rumlow wasn’t the one. The guy was smart buthad an ego to match. He wanted nothing more than to make this punk kid stop pushing limits. Pierce was the boss, though. 

He looked Rumlow over. “I should write you up for that, Private.” The warning was clear. 

Brock nodded slightly.He probably should. He wasn’t afraid though. He’d seen right through Travers already. Pierce he hadn’t figured out yet. 

Travers squashed down his irritation. Pierce and his men would rid Rumlow of his crappy attitude. “You want a hint? Hail Hydra.” He said owlishly then strode out of the room, leaving Brock to consider his parting words. 

That was a highly covert op. Hydra was big and Hydra was secret! He’d heard rumours. A lot of rumours. No actual facts. Anyone who joined never returned. No one ever asked questions. 

Far as he could tell, Hydra was some secret government organization that did science experiments. 

He’d heard from one of the other privates last week that someone in the Hydra division was rogue and working as a double agent.He’d also asked Brock if he’d ever heard of some legend called the Winter Soldier. 

Brock hadn’t. He wanted to now though. Oh god he wanted to. With a title like the Winter Soldier?? What the hell was he? 

The private had disappeared the next day and Brock hadn’t been able to glean any more information. 

Brock had been called in to Travers office to “talk”.The talk had been with a stranger who’d asked him if he believed what he’d heard. He’d smoothly denied ever even talking to the guy. They believed him. 

He tucked all the information away for another time. 

He looked at the uniform that Travers had left for him. It was a black tac uniform, with SHIELD on the sleeve. He’d heard of the government organization that kept things hush hush. But what did that have to do with Hydra? 

He got changed, feeling like he was someone different in the black pants, shirt and vest. 

For the first time since he’d joined the army, he felt useful. He was excited to see what Pierce would have him do. He was going to find out if the Winter Soldier was real. Fuck. He was even going to find out if Hydra was above board. Yeah. Brock Rumlow was gonna change the world!!

Hail Hydra. 


	2. The Asset

Brock looked around the large SHIELD facility in DC which was a beehive of activity.

He’d been dropped here after leaving the training facility where he’d been for six months. Hydra didn’t play games. He’d been treated like shit but he had, slowly but surely, proven his worth to his trainer. Last week, he had finally been told he was to meet the great Secretary Pierce. 

He’d been left here, with no instructions other than to wait for Pierce. It looked like everyone had somewhere to be, except him. He was waiting for Alexander Pierce to show up. The guy was late and that curdled Brock’s enthusiasm. His sarcasm was intact in spite of being used as a punching bag by his trainer and superiors. 

He was a man that’dhad organization and time management burned into his skull from a young age. Being a military brat did that. 

With nothing else to do, he’d sipped crap coffee from the machine and wandered. He’d been introduced to Howard Stark and his son Tony as well. Tony seemed like a good kid. He was already graduated from MIT. They’d talked for awhile about science and stuff like that until Howard had come to collect his son and dragged him off to a meeting. 

They were some big part of Shield. Science division or something. Tony had mentioned his dad had a hand in making the serum that had brought Captain America to life. He was apparently working on more of it. 

He’d been at Shield for almost three hours and he’d heard the words ‘Asset’ and ‘serum’ a few times in whispered conversation. Stark hadn’t come back.  Of course, Captain America; Steve Rogers also came up. Someone said they may have found the plane he went down in. 

Weird world. He hadn’t really listened all that much in history. He knew Rogers had saved New York back in ‘47. Past that, he didn’t really care. He’d wanted to be like Cap when he was a kid but after reality set in, he settled for the army and kicking ass in training. 

He cut off his thoughts abruptly when the secretary showed up, smiling broadly. “Brock Rumlow.” The smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

Brock nodded curtly. “Good morning.”

“I’m sorry I’m late. I had some...duties, to attend to.” The secretary smiled again and beckoned to be followed. 

Brock figured it had something to do with the one known as ‘The Asset’. 

He wondered who the Asset was. He’d never heard about it openly. It was obviously a well hidden part of hydra or shield. He was good at listening and finding things out, however. 

Three hours later, Brock had undergone an intense interrogation. He was exhausted. He didn’t let on though. Let Pierce test him. They had asked every personal question right down to how often he took a fuckin’ piss! He’d gone through this at the training facility already. Hydra obviously liked to grill their agents. What that mattered, he didn’t know but it was asked. It was probably a control thing. He’d pegged Pierce as a control freak. He only had to signal some of his men and they jumped to it. Brock wasn’t gonna be like that. Pierce wanted a leader, he’d get one. Brock Rumlow was no one’s puppet. 

During his interrogation, another man came in and whispered something to Pierce about the Asset. Brock had immediately perked up. 

Pierce was irked. “Handle it!” He barked. The man fled quickly. 

After the extensive questioning was done, Brock was introduced to Henlan. “He’ll be your new trainer and handler.” Pierce waved him away. “I need to attend to things.” Brock almost asked Henlan about the Asset but he didn’t. There were three new recruits that were being taken to a different base to begin more training.

Jack Rollins was beside him, a quiet fellow with a sharp eye for details. 

The other guy sat across from them, head down on his knees. Brock wondered if Mitchell Carson was going to last a week. 

***

The training was rigorous. Henlan didn’t go easy on them. How long would he be trained here? It seemed like he would never get to actually work as an agent! 

Every day, Brock was pushed harder to be stronger and sharper than before. There were days that Brock fell onto his bed, bruised, bleeding but victorious. 

Henlan made him work long hours in the training room and every bit of sarcasm was met with swift and harsh punishment.

He had completed eight rounds on the training course and finally spat out, “Even the Asset couldn’t do this!”

Henlan grabbed his chin hard. “What’d you hear about the Asset?”

Brock shrugged. “I hear things. I’m gonna be the best ya know.” 

“You’ll never be a handler with that attitude,” he snarled as he jabbed a stun baton into Brock’s kidney. 

He grunted and fell to one knee. “Handler?” He ground out. “For what?”

“Just do as you’re told!” Henlan kicked him in the back. “Again! Six rounds on the bars.”

Rumlow got to his feet, aching and grabbed the first chin up bar again. 

Every fight, he watched for the Asset. He asked other recruits about the name but no one knew any more than he did. 

He became obsessed with finding out who the Asset was. He sounded amazing! He heard bits and pieces of how the Asset had taken out thirty enemies in a very short time. He must be a soldier! Was he, perhaps, the legendary Winter Soldier?

Brock fell asleep at night, dreaming of fighting alongside this amazing phenomenon. Being on a first name basis. Maybe the Asset would take Brock on as a protege. It fuelled his fantasies. 

After many months of constant heavy training, it yielded results. Brock was strong, lean and agile. 

He had been here almost a year. He had beaten every Agent they pitted him against. He’d passed every training exercise they’d laid out for him, had crossed every bridge they put before him no matter what it was. 

Pierce called him in for a meeting, the satisfied little smile on his face again.

Brock, looked him in the eye. “Good day?” He drawled. 

He had figured Pierce out. Control freak, wanted to rule the world, (not sure why), and he was an asshole. Brock bowed to him just enough to give a sense of respect. 

The secretary fiddled with a pencil and said casually, “I’m putting you on a Strike team.”

Brock raised an eyebrow. “Is that it? You brought me here to tell me that?”

Pierce chuckled a little coldly. “In Siberia.”

Brock sat up a little straighter at that. “What’s in Siberia?” Maybe...

“You’ll enjoy it.” Pierce cackled. “This particular job is what I’ve wanted you trained for.”

Brock nodded. “When do I start?” 

“You leave on the flight in the morning. Stanger will pick you up.” He started to leave then turned back a little as if on afterthought. “Oh, and you’llalso be training to handle the Asset.” Pierce glanced his way. “Might want to start packing.”

Brock’s mouth went a little dry. The Asset! Yes!! He didn’t ask any further questions. He was more than eager for morning to come. He was finally going to meet the man of his dreams! Every dream and fantasy loomed larger than life in his mind. Every single crappy day was worth it! He hardly slept he was so excited. 

The flight was long and uneventful. Stanger picked him up and took him to a Hydra base that was disguised as a closed computer store. Brock looked around eagerly. 

He had slept only an hour on the ten hour flight. He was operating on coffee and energy drinks now, the result being a jittery, shaky mess. He breathed in slow and deep. He didn’t want to appear like a crazed fan in front of this legend!

Stanger didn’t seem to care though. Rumlow was the newbie recruit and that meant new blood to initiate into the STRIKE team. 

When he followed Agent Stanger into the indicated room, his eyes quickly took in the four men seated around the table. Three were joking and laughing with each other. Stanger joined them, giving Brock a grin. “Welcome to Strike. And Siberia. The only place colder than hell.” He laughed. 

Brock shrugged eyeing the men then studied the fifth at length. The brunette looked back at him coldly. His shoulder length hair was neat and soft. Brock’s eyes slowly took in the shiny metal arm that extended down from his left shoulder. He knew this man! He’d seen him with Pierce at the barracks. This was the Asset? The Asset. His insides went cold with anticipation! It had to be! He looked every inch the brutal soldier that Brock had heard and dreamt about for so long. He drank in the chiseled jaw and cold blue eyes staring at him emotionlessly. He was everything he’d dreamt!  Brock wanted to bow but he didn’t. 

The room had gone quiet at Brock’s intense perusal. 

“He’s real pretty, ain’t he?” Stanger laughed.

“Aw leave the newbie outta your filthy jokes, Brett,” another guffawed, elbowing Stanger.

“You can see he likes him, Shay!” Stanger looked around for support. “He’s starry eyed!”

“Shut up Stanger. I’m Colburn.” The man on the left of the brunette said with a snide smirk. “This is the Asset.”

Brock nodded. “Hey.” He felt immediately stupid. What did one say to their idol?? “Sir.” He added. “It’s a pleasure!” He gushed.

“He doesn’t talk,”Agent Shay said immediately, “His brain’s too fried.”

Brock blushed a little glancing back at the soldier. What? But he needed to talk to him. To have the many conversations.... He frowned slightly with a startling jab of disappointment. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Fried? Like, brainwashed? But, why? How could he be such a great fighter if he was brainwashed? 

“You broke the kid!!” Stanger howled with laughter.

Brock pulled himself up straighter. “I’m Brock Rumlow. I was sent to handle the Asset.” He tossed a glare around.

That made them all laugh again. Only the soldier remained quiet. 

“Really?” Agent Colburn asked. “I didn’t hear that. I heard you were sent here to be trained to handle him.”

“I’m ready now,” Brock corrected. He glared at the tittering agents. “How do things work here? What’s his schedule?” 

“He was taken out of cryo three days ago because we have a hit tomorrow.” Colburn leaned back, studying the arrogant kid. “He put his last handler in the hospital two months ago. I was told Pierce wants to see if you two pair up okay.”

Brock’s eyes shifted between the four men. “What did he do?” He asked uneasily.

“He freaked out. When he’s not properly maintained, he gets neurotic or something. Short circuits. He went into one of his rages and beat his handler up. Now he needs a new handler.”

Brock wondered what it would be like to be the one to work with a man like this! He felt something strange and powerful rear up. He would be the best damn handler ever! Just because he didn’t talk didn’t mean they couldn’t still be the best team of fighters! He and the Asset would be unstoppable! 

He couldn’t imagine a better job. He thought maybe the guys were pulling his leg about the brainwashing. Brainwashed idiots drooled and looked vacant. This guy was definitely with it. He glanced at the cold eyes again. Maybe.

”If you really think you’re ready, then we’ll get back to the safe house and have dinner and you can show us your skills with handling him,” Colburn chuckled. 

They were transported to a safe house where Rumlow was taken to a bedroom with a double bed.

“You can either bed down with him, or put him on the floor.” Colburn stood with his arms crossed. “He’ll sleep wherever you put him. He doesn’t know you yet, so I’ll watch for now. You have to learn how to handle him. He’s not always easy.”

Brock had the innate impression that he was walking into a trap. The soldier stood off to the side and watched him a little suspiciously. He was tall. And built. Brock couldn’t help grazing his eyes over the Asset. Stanger was right. He was pretty.

“So, I just tell him to sleep after dinner?” He asked. 

You gotta change him first.” There was a slight knowing smile on the agent’s face.

“Change....?” Brock asked hesitantly feeling the first hard pangs of nervous anxiety.

The soldier didn’t undress himself? Shit! He’d never dressed another guy. It felt weird. Wrong! “Sit down,” he said to the soldier.  “I’ll take your shirt off.” 

The soldier didn’t blink but his lower lip jutted out stubbornly. He looked from Brock to Colburn. 

“Time for dinner,” Colburn said sternly. “Time to get changed.”

The soldier immediately sat down on the bed, no more stubbornness in his face, watching Brock.

Rumlow undid the buckles on his vest with shaking fingers. That metal arm looked wickedly dangerous up close. The servos whined softly when he moved so that Brock could pull off the heavy Kevlar vest and black turtleneck. 

He swallowed back an exclamation of horror at the mutilated scarring on the left shoulder.What the hell had Hydra done to him? The broad chest was all muscles. 

Colburn tossed two items on the bed. 

Brock picked up the T-shirt. He slid it over the Asset’s head and helped him get his arms in. He didn’t resist. 

He picked up the white garment, expecting pants and stopped. His face registered surprised incredulity when he realized what he was holding. 

Colburn cackled gleefully. “Your face is priceless! Shay! Stanger! Robbs! Newbie’s changing his first diaper!”

Brock Rumlow had never shied away from a challenge. But this.....! This! What the hell?! They HAD to be kidding! The great Asset wasn’t toilet trained?! He physically felt his perfect image of the Asset crumble. Disappointment cut through him like a knife. The Asset wasn’t legendary or perfect. He was a pathetic, brainwashed guy who was controlled by Hydra. 

The soldier wasn’t  looking at him now, his cheeks faintly tinged like he could read Brock’s mind.

Brock realized in that second that he probably didn’t like it any better than Brock did. 

Despite the laughing audience, Brock pulled the soldier’s pants off to reveal a wet diaper. Oh god, he did not want to do this! He had never changed a diaper in his life!  He was fucking twenty! He was part of Strike! Hydra! Shield! Why was he babysitting a fucking brainwashed soldier?? Anger at the situation and the loss of his dreams made Brock glower. 

The soldier lay quiet now, his eyes blank. 

Brock took a deep breath and opened up the dry diaper, figuring out how it went on before taking the wet one off. 

“Here’s wipes,” Colburn said, still giggling. He handed Rumlow a plastic Huggies box decorated with Mickey Mouse. 

“Thanks,” Brock said, with as much dignity as he could muster. 

He pulled the wet diaper off and wiped a bit more harshly than necessary eliciting a grunt of pain from the Soldier on the bed. He would’ve apologized but it would’ve made the idiots watching laugh harder. Brock was trying not to look at his privates. It was hard not to though. They were perfect, physically beautiful like the rest of him. 

He got the clean diaper underneath and to his relief, it was easier than he’d expected.Once he was done, the four agents cheered.

“You’re a natural.” Stanger congratulated. “Just remember that’s one of your jobs, to keep him clean.”

Brock wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean but he had a feeling that it wasn’t the last time he’d be changing diapers. Anger and disgust warred within him. Was this what being the Asset’s handler meant? 

He wondered why they would put the Soldier in fucking diapers. He finally gathered the courage to ask while they were sitting around the tv after dinner, sipping whiskey. 

“Strucker’s orders,” Stanger said. “He pissed his pants a few times on longer missions and stakeouts. He got punished but didn’t stop.  When he messed himself, Strucker beat him almost senseless and then put him in diapers. It saves a lot of hassle though. He doesn’t whine anymore about being wet.”

Brock glanced at the Soldier sitting on the floor in his diaper and T-shirt, sipping contentedly at a protein shake. 

He didn’t know what to do with all these feelings. He felt a huge disappointmentover the loss of his idol, a sort of disgusted sadness for this man who’d been stripped of every piece of humanness he had, anger that he’d been put in this position. He did NOT want to be a handler to a brainwashed idiot assassin who wasn’t toilet trained!! Pierce was going to hear from him!! 

Stanger was talking again. “We have one last hit tomorrow for Strucker. A big one. And then he’s ordered the Asset to be moved to the United States to go under for awhile. Pierce got him from Strucker.”

“Under?” Brock asked, distracted for a moment. 

“Cryofreeze.” The agents looked at him as though he was daft. 

Brock frowned, wondering if the soldier was aware that they were talking about him. It didn’t seem like it. 

“What’s the mission?” 

“He’s being sent to get some serum.” Colburn pulled a calendar out. 

”Alone?” Brock asked. 

Colburn nodded. “Yep. You’ll be with us when we take him down to where he will intercept the delivery. He’ll do the hit alone.”

Brock nodded. “Any other details I need?” 

“We’ll give ‘em to you tomorrow.” Stanger said.

Brock got up. “Soldier.” He made his voice as firm as possible. “Bedtime.”

The Assetgot up and meekly followed Brock up to the bedroom. 

Brock lay a blanket and pillow on the floor for him. “Go to sleep.”

The soldier obediently lay down. 

Brock opened his journal. “December 15, 1991. Today, I became the Asset’s handler.” 


	3. The Awakening

The hit was successful. Brock wasn’t told what they needed the serum for. He just knew that the Asset returned several hours later with a silver case with serum in it. He asked who was involved in the hit. 

Colburn grudgingly told him it was Howard and Maria Stark. 

Brock felt a stunning moment of guilt. They’d left a seventeen year old kid orphaned? What kind of organization would do that? He didn’t ask though. 

The Asset looked drained. His vest was blood stained. 

“Clean him up,” Colburn demanded when they reached the safe house. “You leave at 0400 hours.” 

Brock glanced at his watch. “That’s in three hours.”

“Yeah. You can sleep on the flight. If you’re lucky, he’ll nap too.” Colburn was already off to talk to Strucker. 

Brock took the Soldier into the small bathroom and started water running in the tub. “We need to clean you up.”

The Asset shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, eyeing the tub. 

Brock tried to forget what Colburn had said about the Starks and undressed the man in front of him. 

The soldier climbed into the tub and sat in the water, stiffly, refusing to look at him. 

Brock poured water over his head and soaped up his hair. 

The Asset whimpered when he rinsed it. 

Brock was careful not to get it in his eyes. “What’s the matter, big guy? You scared of the bath?”

The soldier didn’t answer. He sat still so that Brock could wash him. 

Once he was clean, dry and dressed again in civilian clothes, Colburn produced what looked like a harness. “This goes on him when you leave and doesn’t come off until he’s in Pierce’s hands. Got it?”

Brock nodded, watching Colburn strap the harness snugly around the Asset’s chest, waist and shoulders and cinching the buckles in the back. The agent handed Brock a matching heavy braided leash. “Keep him leashed when you’re not on the plane. It’s one way to keep him calm.”

Brock silently nodded again, snapping the hook to the ring on the harness’ chest piece. “How the hell am I supposed to get him through security?”

“Strucker already took care of that,” Colburn muttered. He pushed a small suitcase towards Brock. “Here’s his stuff. His uniform needs cleaning as soon as you get settled.”

When Colburn was finally done with his instructions, Brock packed up his own suitcase. He was unsure of how he felt, going back to the US with the information he had.He didn’t have much choice though. 

Colburn took them to the airport, telling Brock to go to the priority service desk. 

Brock walked into the brightly lit airport. The soldier balked at the brightness, scrubbing at his eyes. 

“I know you’re tired,” Brock murmured. “We’ll be on the plane soon.” Fortunately, the airport wasn’t busy at this hour. The Asset unwillingly followed Brock to the correct official. 

Brock gave his ticket to the official and mentioned Strucker. 

The security officer looked over the Asset then beckoned him around the security terminal. “We’ll get you onto your flight shortly.”

Brock nodded. “Thanks.”

The soldier didn’t want to sit in the padded chair and paced at the end of his leash anxiously. 

“Hey,” Brock said firmly. “Settle down.”

He stopped moving, looking balefully at Brock, but remained still. 

Brock wondered momentarily if he should check if he needed to be changed. He grimaced. The soldier was his sole responsibility now. “I’m gonna check your diaper,” he said softly, aware that there were a few others around. 

The soldier dropped his chin to his chest and nodded slightly. 

Brock wrinkled his nose. “Aw, not here, man...” he groaned, knowing by the smell that he didn’t even need to check. “Come on.” He got up and led the Asset to the bathroom. “Lay down.”

Changing a wet diaper was one thing. This.... Brock really wished he was anywhere but here! As he cleaned up, he tried not to gag. “I really hope Pierce wants to toilet train you,” he said, breathing through his mouth. 

Clean and fresh, they went back to their spot and had just gotten settled when the flight attendant came for them. 

The flight was long. It gave Brock a lot of time to think and study his companion. The soldier slept part way. 

He wondered if the soldier could talk. He was beautiful, despite his drawbacks. Brock couldn’t deny his attraction. The Asset was lovely. Why had Hydra brainwashed him? What was his name? How had he come to be with Hydra? Why was he a secret? So many questions. 

When the plane landed at two in the afternoon on United States soil, Brock was tired. He figured the soldier must be too. He’d given him his protein shakes for breakfast and lunch. 

Rollins was there to pick them up. 

He greeted Jack with a smile. “Hey. Nice to see a friendly face.” He buckled the Asset into the car and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Tough week?” Rollins asked.

Brock shrugged. “Got to meet him.” He pointed a thumb backwards. 

“The soldier.” Rollins nodded. “Pierce is at the Hydra base, waiting.”

Rumlow dragged himself into the base, holding the Asset’s leash. Again, the soldier balked, staring around fearfully. 

“It’s okay, big guy,” he soothed. “Not gonna hurt ya.”

Rollins looked at him. “Uh.....”

“What?” Brock asked. 

Jack shrugged. He opened a door to a large room. 

The soldier whimpered piteously when he saw the chair and the cryofreeze tank. 

Brock felt a moment of protective anger. He squashed it fast. “Mr. Pierce?”

Pierce came forward. “Soldier.” The cold smile was on his face. “Rumlow, strip him. He’s going under.” 

Brock felt anxiety ripple through him but he silently did as he was told, avoiding the pleading look in the soldier’s blue eyes. 

He heaved soft stuttering breaths when the techs swabbed him down with the antiseptic wash. 

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Brock whispered into his ear, desperate to give him some sort of reassurance. 

The soldier looked at him, his mouth tipping up just a bit in an almost smile. 

They slid him into the tank and closed the lid, engaging it. The hiss of the cooling agent sounded, and then....nothing. 

Pierce turned to him as if nothing happened. “Rumlow, you can have the afternoon off to rest. I’ll see you in my office tomorrow for debriefing.”

Brock nodded, fighting at the sting behind his eyes. He was just really really tired. He shot one last glance at the tank, the window covered with ice now. ‘Rest well, Winter Soldier,’ he thought.

***

**1999**

In eight years, Brock Rumlow had gone from being a trainee to a trainer to being an assistant commander. He knew how to get a job done. He didn’t mind the work. A lot of his questions about Hydra had been answered. 

He wasn’t altogether certain he liked what Hydra stood for but, hell, he’d given almost ten fucking years of his life to this organization. 

Then, there was the Soldier. He was the biggest reason Brock would never leave Hydra. 

It had only been about five months before he discovered where Pierce was storing the cryo tank. He’d sneak in there once a week and talk to the sleeping soldier. 

It had taken awhile for the international furor over the Starks’ murders to die down. In fact, it had taken almost six years before no one except Tony talked about it anymore. 

When Brock had gotten back from Siberia  to Shield, Tony had been inconsolable. The whole Shield organization gathered around him. 

Obadiah Stane, a benefactor of sorts, had been left in charge of the teenager. 

Brock couldn’t face Tony, knowing what he knew. He was too afraid that somehow Tony would read the guilt in his eyes. When Tony sought him out, he mumbled his sympathies and escaped. 

He’d spent a lot of time at the Hydra base. The only time he was at Shield was when Strike was called. Nick Fury, the Shield Director, hadn’t clued in yet that Pierce was working his own agenda right under his nose. 

Brock wasn’t about to spill about it. He was here for the soldier. No one knew about his little conversations with the frozen Asset. He’d stay late after the other agents had gone home, avoiding the security cameras and then going to the room where the cryo tank was and have his one sided conversation. 

That’s why it was such a shock when Pierce called on him one day and asked point blank if he missed the Soldier. 

“Why would I, Sir?” He asked with his usual amount of passive sarcasm wrapped in diplomacy. 

Pierce looked at him with interest. “We’re going to wake him up. We have a hit that we need him for and you need to be there as his handler. He’ll need about four days before he’ll be ready.”

Brock nodded. He hid his excitement well. He would not let on that he was shaking with anticipation inside. 

He stood in the medical bay, watching the activity. 

The tech team was ready as the tank was brought in. It opened with a low hiss and the frozen naked soldier was laid on the gurney. 

Brock looked at him, feeling cold. Poor soldier. 

He was wondering at the process. They started with warming him up under the lights, rubbing his extremities. 

It took some time, but colour was starting to return to his body.An IV was plugged into his flesh arm, with a warm saline solution as well as a nutrition bag. His body needed energy to recover. After about two hours, he was starting to shiver. 

Brock wanted to help him but he stayed in place. 

By the time a third bag of the saline was hung, he’d started moving and squirming in his restraints. 

He emptied his bladder onto the table. 

“Good boy,” one of the techs said, sponging him off with warm water. “Waterworks are good.”

A young assistant marked it on the checklist. 

The soldier slowly opened his eyes, blinking blearily in the bright lights. He made a hoarse sound. 

Brock immediately moved towards him. “Hey buddy. I’m right here.”

The blue eyes travelled dizzily up to settle on his face. His lower lip quivered a little. 

Brock wondered if he was going to cry. It must be hard for him, waking up from this. He rubbed the flesh shoulder gingerly. “Remember me?”

Again, the blue eyes settled on his face, longer this time. A flash of recognition passed through them and Brock grinned. “Yeah, buddy. I’m your handler. You’re doing good. You’ll be feeling a lot better soon.”

“Shouldn’t tell him things you can’t make good on,” one of the techs mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Brock asked, standing up and coming around the table.

“Once he’s good, he’s going in the chair. He doesn’t like the chair.” The tech continued what he was doing but Brock felt his anxiety spike anyway. 

What did the chair do? He studied the contraption on the other side of the room. Suddenly, the conversation eight years ago in Siberia made sense. ‘Fried his brains.’ Oh my gosh....he thought. They are using electroshock on him. Brock wasn’t stupid. He knew what technology did. 

He looked back at the soldier who was starting to sluggishly move his arms and legs on his own.Why did they have to do that? He was being good. 

The soldier shakily stood up and Brock caught him before he could collapse. “Easy, Winter. We’ll get you dressed.”

“Just a diaper and sweats,” a tech said, pointing to the items as she wiped the table down. 

Brock got the Asset back on the table and diapered him. He almost felt the gratitude. 

He smiled. “You’re welcome,” he whispered. He almost felt like he could read the soldier. They had a bond. 

The sweats were on and Brock was quietly talking to him when a different doctor came in. 

“Into the chair.” 

Immediately, fear fragmented the soldier’s face, his eyes darting quickly to Brock. 

“It’ll be okay,” Brock promised. 

The soldier shakily walked to the chair and sat down, jerking anxiously as the restraints locked around him.

Brock watched, trusting he’d be okay, until he started to scream.He had to leave the room, the sound of the pain filled cries making him want to vomit. 

Ten minutes later, it was quiet. 

Brock was told to come back in. He clenched his jaw, unwilling to let emotion betray him. 

The soldier sat in the chair now, silent and glassy eyed. 

“This is Agent Rumlow. Your handler.” The doctor said firmly. 

The Asset briefly looked at him then nodded. There was no recognition. 

“Watch him for any physical malfunction. Feed him less today than usual. Between being thawed and wiped, he tends to get sick.” 

Brock nodded. 

“Watch him for blood during diaper changes. Sometimes during thawing he can tear some of the thinner lining of the bowel especially when he’s wiped right after because he gets so tense.” The doctor finished cleaning the machine. “You can take him now. Feed him just a bit now and again in three hours. He will probably want to sleep in between.”

One of the techs threaded a feeding tube down his nose while he tried to thrash at the intrusion. She handed Brock a bag of brownish goop. “Once this is gone you can take him to his cell. Let us know if he doesn’t have a bowel movement in the next few hours.”

Brock grimaced at the sluggish squish of the slop as it went down the tube into the Soldier’s stomach. Poor guy. When the bag was empty, another tech pulled it out and cleaned his nose. “You can take him now.”

Rumlow took the Asset out of the room, taking a moment to study the now placid soldier.He realized he had no clue where the Asset went. “Where....” he murmured.

“He’s got a cell down in the left wing,” Agent Mercer said. “Thought you might not know. First time’s always a bit of a shock to watch.” She laughed at her stupid pun and walked off.

Rumlow rolled his eyes and led the Asset to the left wing. “Bad joke from Mercer.” He smiled at the soldier. 

He got the ghost of a smile back. 

In the cell, Rumlow noted a thin mattress and a blanket, a shelf with a few diapers on it and a long low table probably designed for changing diapers. That was about it. 

“So this is where they keep you?” He asked.

The soldier took a moment before shrugging vaguely. 

Brock put a hand on his arm and was taken aback when he startled violently. 

The soldier trembled, keening softly and curling in on himself. 

“Does it hurt?” Brock whispered. 

The Asset looked at him wide eyed. “Hurt?” He echoed softly. 

Brock tried to read his eyes. He imagined the electricity probably made his skin sensitive. 

The soldier yawned. 

Brock gently touched his shoulder. “I know you’re tired. They want you to take a crap first though.” 

The Soldier looked at him and then at the bed. 

Rumlow gave up, pointing at the bed. “Time to sleep.” He’d check on him in a couple of hours. 

The soldier obediently crawled onto the mattress and lay down. 

Brock sat beside him, watching the Asset’s eyes search his face. 

“I’m Commander Rumlow. Your handler.” He spoke softly.“You are the Winter Soldier. You had a long rest but I watched over you.”

The soldier’s eyes flickered over his face. “Commander.” 

Rumlow smiled. “Yeah.”

Slowly, the soldier drifted off, at peace with his handler nearby. 

Brock sat silently watching him sleep. Over the eight years, the conversations had been one sided, but they had cemented a strong image in his head of being a strong but gentle handler for the Soldier. 

The Asset would love and obey him. 

It was about two hours when he noted that the sleeping soldier squirmed and did what he was supposed to do. 

Brock was just preparing to change him when a guard shouted at him, waking the soldier. “No one’s allowed with the Asset after hours.”

Feeling angry, Rumlow flared at him. “Excuse me?!? I’m Agent Rumlow and I’m the Asset’s handler. Secretary Pierce gave me permission to stay.”

The guard looked unconvinced. “It’s against protocol.”

“Screw protocol!” Brock blustered. “Besides, the techs told me to stay.”

The guard shrugged. “Not my head on the chopping block.”

Brock watched him walk away and turned back to the soldier who was still laying there, obediently.“Let’s get you changed and then I have to go. You gonna be okay if I go?”

He nodded.

Brock changed him, checking carefully for any sign of internal injuries. There were none and he breathed with relief. He tucked the soldier back into bed. “Be good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The guard was watching him closely, sharply.

The commander touched a gentle finger to the Asset’s hand and left the cell. The guard locked it securely with a scowl.

Brock was going to ask Pierce if he could stay the next night. The soldier would benefit. 

What if he got sick? Or had a bad reaction to something? Wasn’t it the handler’s job?

Brock didn’t get a chance to ask. Pierce lay into him immediately. “Did you read over the protocol and scheduling for the Asset that you were given? You cannot break protocol with him! He’s very sensitive to all changes.”

Brock crossed his arms but nodded. “Yes sir.” He hadn’t actually read the papers. He would do that tonight. 

“Tomorrow, you train with the Asset.We have to get him ready. Understood?” Pierce glared at him. 

Brock didn’t back down but nodded again. “Yes sir.”However, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to protect the soldier. Protocol be damned. He would see what tomorrow would bring. 


	4. The Protector

Brock felt ill when he got to the training facility the next day and saw his soldier. 

The Asset was already there with two agents, bathed in sweat, pale and trembling. His right arm was bruised in several places, his upper lip was cut and bleeding. His bare chest bore the marks of a recent beating. 

“What happened to him?” He asked, keeping his voice calm. 

Agent Crowley was breathing heavily, his face red and angry. “He’s being difficult.”

Jack Rollins was standing by the door and gave Brock a look but said nothing. 

Rumlow had known Jack for eight years. He didn’t know if they’d call each other ‘friends’ but they were definitely drinking buddies and they had an understanding about how they felt when it came to HYDRA’s underhanded stuff. They kept their mouths shut and their noses clean. It was the only way to survive. 

Rollins knew about Rumlow’s army days and he’d shared his own stories of his screwed up past. So, yeah. They might be, loosely termed, friends.

Agent Crowley was standing close to the soldier now, whip ready to strike again.“He was bein’ stubborn about getting ready this morning.”

“So you had to beat him?” Brock’s voice had an edge to it. 

Crowley glanced at the Assistant Commander, temporarily distracted.“He wouldn’t listen. I was within protocol.” There was a slight whine in his voice. 

“I’m here now. You can go. Rollins, stay.” Rumlow spoke quietly but his words were razor sharp. 

The agent stalked out angrily. 

Brock looked at Jack. “What the hell did he do to deserve this kind of beating??” 

Jack told him that the Asset had balked at eating that morning, obviously still not feeling well. 

The agent had hit him immediately and then force fed him none too gently. 

The soldier had become upset and that coupled with his current physical state had made him sick. 

He’d thrown up his breakfast and Crowley had proceeded to whip him. 

Brock felt such a surge of anger towards Crowley he had to physically chew the inside of his cheek. “Bastard. He’s not allowed to feed the Soldier again.”

Rollins frowned. “Don’t baby him. Pierce wants him beat into shape as quick as possible. Crowley was rough but he didn’t actually break protocol. The Asset is just still weak from cryo. He’ll heal fine.”

Brock kept his back to Rollins and didn’t say anything. He could see the questions in the soldier’s eyes, why he’d been treated like this. He gently pushed a strand of dark hair out of the Asset’s face. Poor baby. 

Jack sighed. “Watch yourself, Brock. I don’t wanna see you lose this.”

When he was alone with the soldier, he gently dried his face with a small towel. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to beat Crowley’s ass.” 

He whispered the words softly but the Asset immediately heard him. He searched Brock’s face. “I was bad.” 

Brock wanted to kill Crowley in that moment. “You weren’t bad, baby boy.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. 

The Asset was watching him a little warily but wondering at the kind words. 

Brock dropped his hands. He wanted to touch the soldier and comfort him. He also realized that the soldier had amazing eyes. However, he had to be careful; Pierce would be watching him now.He shook his head to clear it. “Are you ready for some training?”

The soldier nodded slightly. 

Brock had looked over the suggested exercises for the first day out of cryo. 

“Twenty minutes of warm ups.” He put the soldier through his paces, monitoring his condition. He went through the warm ups easily enough. 

Brock watched the supple muscles moving easily. He could do this all day. When he gave the soldier water in between, he got a shy “thank you.” 

They ran the training course for over an hour. 

Brock gave small signals with his prompts and he wasn’t really surprised that the soldier picked up on them easily. A touch to the shoulder, or elbow; a back pat and a smile, he obviously craved touch and worked hard to earn it. 

Trying to still the giddy sense of fulfillment it gave him to know he was giving the soldier what he needed, Brock finally held up a hand. “Break time. You need a change and a shake. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

The soldier’s colour was much better than it had been when they started.

Brock took him to the infirmary to change him. He couldn’t deny he had enjoyed watching the soldier work. That body was amazing! Lean hard lines of muscle and smooth coordination worked to make an impressive show. 

Once he was freshly diapered and dressed, Brock decided that the soldier was probably ready for something more to eat. He asked a tech to get a shake for him.

He was pondering Crowley’s actions wondering if this was the usual treatment the Asset received. Protocol or not, why did Pierce allow it?

He had gone over the short list of acceptable ways to interact with the soldier. 

Whipping for infractions was included. 

He shook his head. Poor guy. He had to stop thinking about the Asset as his soldier.  The long conversations with him while he was frozen had fostered a fierce protectiveness in Brock towards the assassin. 

The soldier sat on the floor beside his chair sipping on his straw. He was so good. Brock watched him, marvelling that the same man who had only half an hour ago been effortlessly going through exercise routines with a raw energy now sat on the floor complacently, tracing a finger over the pattern in the linoleum. 

He stroked the soft hair and was rewarded with a hesitant look and then the Asset leaned slightly into the touch with a happy little sigh. 

Brock wanted to hear that sound again.  He stroked again, eliciting another happy murmur. He loved to see the soldier like this! He really was beautiful. He possessed an innocence like this that Brock wanted to keep safe. 

When the shake was done, Brock took the cup. “Good job,” he smiled. 

The soldier’s eyes lit up at the unexpected praise. 

Brock touched his hand to his cheek with a smile. “Such a good boy.” 

He took him back for his second round of training. The shooting range. 

The soldier was in his element now. He was single minded and ruthless in his goal. The targets fell, one after the other without mistakes. 

The commander praised him lavishly just to see the hesitant looks of happiness that his words elicited. He was amazed at the way he never missed a target. 

For two hours, they practiced shooting and then it was back to run the course again. The Asset needed to build his stamina back up.

Crowley was back to watch, arms crossed. Brock ignored him. He touched the Asset’s elbow and didn’t have to say anything. He ran the course beautifully. 

At the end Brock rewarded him with a back pat and directed him to the next set. 

When it was clear that the he was tired, Brock stopped him. “Time to hit the shower.” 

“You’re way too soft with him,” Crowley sneered. 

Brock had honestly forgotten that the agent was even there. “He did the courses.”

Crowley glared at him but Brock just led the soldier to the bathrooms. Let Crowley think what he wanted. 

The soldier had another bag of brown goop after he was showered, diapered and dressed. It was some sort of high protein vitamin crap. He sure didn’t like the feeding tube and only Brock’s hand on his shoulder got him to sit still for it. 

Brock gave him more water afterward and put him in his cell. “I’ll try and be back early tomorrow.” He whispered. “Be a good boy.” He touched the soldier's cheek and smiled.  

The soldier didn’t respond but his eyes followed Brock until he couldn’t see him anymore.

Rumlow went to his apartment. He was exhausted. When he got there, the door was unlocked. 

Silently pulling his gun, he opened the door slowly, surprised and discomfited to find Alexander Pierce there, sitting at his breakfast bar with a frosted glass of iced tea in his hand.

“Sir?” He questioned, once his fight instinct had stilled and his gun was lowered. 

“How did the training go?” Pierce asked without preamble. 

Brock grabbed a cold bottle of water and a can of beer out of the fridge and drank most of the water before answering. “The Asset did well. Considering that Agent Crowley beat the shit out of him this morning before we even started.”

He set the water down and shrugged out of his vest. 

He didn’t know what he’d expected but when Pierce threw his head back and laughed loudly, it turned his stomach. 

He tossed his gun holster on the table as well. “He did all the exercises though and he didn’t miss a target on the range.

“I didn’t expect him too. That’s why we’re hard on him.  He can take it.You know the story?” Pierce’s eyes glittered with interest. 

“What story?” Brock asked, popping the beer cap. He was already tired of having Pierce here and wished he’d leave.

“The Soldier was taken into Hydra by Arnim Zola in 1945.” 

Brock didn’t let himself react outwardly. “So, he’s been around awhile.” 

Pierce seemed disappointed at the cool reaction. “It’s the repeated cryo freezing and mind wiping that have kept him young and malleable.” 

“He does good work,” Brock agreed.

“I saw your request to have him toilet trained.” Pierce watched him like a hawk. “You don’t like changing diapers Commander?”

Brock looked at him lazily. “You finally got around to reading a request from eight years ago?” The sarcasm was unmistakable. 

Pierce’s eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t valid while he was frozen. Although, I’m not sure it’ll be any use in the field either. I read all Strucker’s files on him. Unless of course you enjoy beating him?” The small smile played around his lips again. 

“I don’t.” Brock answered. “I’ll leave that to Crowley. Beating him to get his cooperation isn’t my style.” Brock bit his tongue wishing he hadn’t said it. Pierce was not a gentleman at all. 

“Don’t go soft on me.” Pierce said coldly. “I heard from Crowley that you were coddling the Asset.” He paused for a long moment, probably to give Rumlow time to squirm. “He doesn’t need that. You have to be harsh with him.”

Brock didn’t say anything. He wasn’t about to dig a deeper hole. 

“You’re walking a fine line with the rules, Agent Rumlow.” The words were soft and vaguely threatening. 

Brock washed his hands at the kitchen sink, then carefully dried them before responding. 

“For the amount of time that he’s out of cryo it’s hardly worth the effort to toilet train him.” Rumlow switched back to that. Trying not to let the anxiety creep into his voice was difficult. 

Imagining the look in those blue eyes almost made his knees weak. The look of “Why? What did I do?” The soldier would be so confused.

As it was, the mind wiping and cryo took their toll. He was pretty sure the soldier was incontinent and couldn’t be trained anyway. 

“Are you getting personally involved with the Asset?” Pierce asked sharply. 

Brock realized Pierce thought he was using the soldier for his own gratification. 

“Well he is real pretty, ya know.” He started cutting up vegetables for his dinner so he wouldn’t have to look at the Secretary any longer. 

Pierce chuckled again. “Yeah. I thought so. Just don’t let it interfere with his training or work.”

Brock felt his stomach curdle. “Of course not. Hard to find time to have some fun with him though when the guards are always there. As his handler...of course.”

Pierce’s voice held a note of sarcasm. “A handler needs that right.” He came to stand beside Brock. “You have full permission to access the Asset’s cell any time you wish. Just don’t make him bleed too much.”

Brock nodded slightly. 

“What about the security footage? Who’s gonna see that?” Brock asked. 

Pierce laughed and the sound grated. “There’s a switch behind the shelf in his cell that disables it. I’ll let the staff know you’re not to be disturbed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Brock swallowed back the sarcasm that wanted to explode. At least he had permission to see his soldier tonight. 

When Pierce was gone, Brock made a sandwich, swigged the rest of his beer, then grabbed a few things and headed back out. 

Tonight, he’d stay with his boy and make sure no one hurt him! He had permission and he was gonna use it! 


	5. Good Boy

When Brock showed up, the guards didn’t bother him, already having received the message. 

Agent Mercer however, had no such restraint. “Can’t keep your hands off the pretty boy, Rumlow? I’d pegged you differently.” 

He shrugged. “Hard to get any action when I’m working all the time.”

“What are you gonna do when they freeze him again?” She asked with a snide smirk. 

He shrugged. “I’ll find someone.” 

He hoped they wouldn’t freeze him right away again! Eight years had been a long time other than the two weeks they’d thawed him for some damn mission in Croatia. They’d purposely timed it when Brock was out of the country! He only heard about it from a junior agent two weeks later. He was mad that they hadn’t let him see the Asset. 

He came to the cell and found the key, hanging on a hook not far from it. 

He unlocked the cell door and the soldier immediately looked up, something like hesitant happiness coming into his eyes at the sight of his handler. 

“Hi baby,” Rumlow whispered, going to find the switch that Pierce had told him about. 

The soldier looked at him questioningly but didn’t say anything. 

Rumlow sat down beside him, gently stroking his hair. “Are you still dry?”

The Asset looked at him in confusion. “Dry?” He echoed softly.

Brock smiled. “Your diaper.” 

The soldier looked down and shrugged. 

“It’s okay. Here. Lay down. Let’s snuggle.”

The Asset was stiff at first but when no pain was forthcoming, he started to relax. 

Brock was curious. He gently ran an index finger over the soldier’s lips and shivered a little when the soldier pulled it into his mouth, sucking on his finger.“Good boy,”he murmured. 

The next morning, it was Brock who fed him his breakfast. The protein shake went over better this morning. Crowley entered the cafeteria and scowled at Brock. 

The soldier immediately tensed. 

Brock touched his finger to the Asset’s lips and smiled a little when the soldier sucked his finger into his mouth and relaxed. It was cute! “Good boy,” he whispered, pulling his finger out of the soldier’s mouth so he could finish his breakfast. 

The blue eyes searched his face and the ghost of a smile appeared. “Good boy,” he repeated. 

Pierce strode in, spotting Brock. “Oh good. I’ve read through some of the reports. Since you want to spend more time,” he winked, “with the Asset, as his handler, find a way to get him more relaxed. He’s been aggressive to the others who have tried to clean him up. Biting, hitting, that kind of thing. I’m putting that responsibility on you, as his handler.”

Brock nodded. “Yes Sir.”

After the soldier’s shower, getting dressed and any other small tasks, Brock continued giving the soldier his finger to suck on always telling him he was a good boy and feeling a heady rush of protectiveness at the trust and innocence in the Asset’s eyes as he looked at him.He didn’t try to bite, hit or kick Brock. 

Alone in the training room, it was the same. Because of his reward system, the soldier worked hard to please him and earn his twenty seconds of cuddle time. It relaxed him. Brock wondered if he could capitalize on that. He had orders to...

The training went well, until Pierce showed up to watch a week later. Rumlow could feel the Asset’s tension. 

Brock guided him with a gentle hand on his elbow. He stumbled on the course because he was trying to watch Pierce. 

“Focus!” Pierce commanded, snapping a whip through the air. 

The Asset hurried to do better. “Good boy?” He asked at the end of the course and Brock quickly shook his head then directed him to the firearms training area. Confusion covered the Asset’s face until Brock placed the rifle in his hands. His whole demeanour changed as he started shooting targets.Brock was amazed at how focused he was on the job. He just never missed.

When he saw Pierce, his face registered anxiety again.

He looked at Rumlow. “Good boy?” He whispered, eyeing Brock’s hand.

Brock shook his head slightly. “Run your courses once more. The Secretary is watching.”

When they were back in the soldier’s cell, he grabbed Brock’s hand and pulled his index finger into his mouth, making satisfied noises. 

Brock held the Asset close, letting him suck on the finger to relax him. “You’re such a good boy. But Secretary can’t see you doing this, okay?”

“Good boy,” the soldier repeated, then continued sucking the commander’s finger.His whole body relaxed and he became pliant against his handler.

Brock frowned. He hated the way the rest of the staff and Pierce treated the soldier. He loved cuddles and being babied. 

“You can be my baby boy,” Brock whispered, kissing his forehead. 

Brock hadn’t considered that babying the soldier could backfire. He spent most evenings with him, training him to do things and responding to Brock’s touches and gestures, then rewarding with cuddles, sucking on his finger and storytelling. He kept convincing himself that he was following orders. This went on for almost two months. 

Pierce called on them to take out a troublesome money launderer. 

The op went better than expected and to Brock’s glee, the Soldier wasn’t put back in cryo after. 

Pierce wanted Brock to work with him some more. He liked what he’d seen on the field. The soldier listened well to Rumlow. He hardly had to speak to guide him. Fortunately, Pierce didn’t ask how he’d managed it. The others watched with some jealousy as Brock became better at handling the Asset than anyone in a long time. 

In privacy, whispering what a good boy he was, Brock started allowing the soldier to cuddle a blanket while he sucked his own thumb or Brock’s finger. 

They pulled off a few ops together, never having a problem. Rumlow enjoyed babying the Asset afterwards. Then there was the one whereRollins came. 

The Asset was flawless on the field and Brock nearly burst with pride when all he had to do was touch his shoulder to get him moving. 

Seeing him in action was something he’d never get over. 

Rollins nodded his approval. 

Rumlow nearly had a cow, however, when the soldier put his thumb in his mouth at dinner later, in front of Rollins!! “Take your hand out of your mouth,” he said sternly.

The Asset gave him a hurt look and dropped his hand, pouting. 

“Where’d he pick that up?” Jack asked. 

Rumlow didn’t answer. 

The days started to blend into each other for Rumlow, as the schedule became routine. Some nights he would stay at the base and others he would go home .

The soldier was always eagerly awaiting him if he’d gone home for the night. No one took care of him anymore except Brock. 

As the Asset’s handler Pierce had handed over his leash to Brock for safekeeping. Brock didn’t think he’d ever need the leash to keep him in line. He was just that good!

Rumlow had apparently forgotten that when the Asset’s protocol training was broken things would eventually start going awry. 

They had been sent out to take out a minor target. Brock let the soldier lead, as this was his training.He seemed off kilter. Not as focused today. Brock wished he’d brought the leash. 

“Watch the target,” he growled.

The soldier stomped his boot, glaring at his handler before dropping to one knee and sighting through the sniper rifle. 

The target was alerted however when Rumlow dropped his fucking knife out the window. 

The soldier was distracted when Brock swore. 

The guy started to run. 

The soldier shot, missed; which Brock had never seen him do, and wanted to shoot again but Brock stopped him with a hand on his arm. He tried to shake him off but Brock tightened his grip. “Stop!”

He snapped his teeth and growled. 

Brock pulled back in shock. 

After a moment he looked at his handler. “Good boy?” He asked, reaching for Brock’s hand. 

“No!” Brock yelled. “Bad! We gotta go!” He dragged the unwilling soldier to the unmarked vehicle and took off. 

The Asset threw a damn temper tantrum in the van! Brock clenched his jaw together to keep silent. This behaviour wasn’t going to go over!

They found the target in an alley and finished him off anyway but the soldier was still sulking. 

Brock rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna have a time out at the safe house!”

Brock was thankful it was just the two of them! 

Even though the punishment was only a timeout in the corner, the soldier whimpered pitifully. He reached for Brock, tears welling in his big blue eyes. 

“Stop it!” Brock ordered. “You were a bad boy for yelling at Commander and trying to bite!” 

Two tears rolled down the soldier’s cheeks. 

Brock softened. Really it was his fault. “I know. You didn’t understand. Let’s get you changed and then we’ll snuggle.” 

When the soldier was clean and dry, Rumlow took him to the couch, and sat, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere baby.”

The soldier sat and tentatively touched his hand. “Good boy?” 

Brock sighed. What had he gotten himself into? The Asset was seeing it as a reward when Brock let him suck on his finger. 

Rumlow nodded, brushing his hair back. “Good boy.”

The soldier leaned into Brock eagerly taking the offered finger. He sucked happily, relaxed now. 

Brock liked the feeling of the soldier’s mouth around his finger and seeing his eyes get heavy with the repetitive motion. 

Brock wondered vaguely what it would be like to give the soldier a pacifier. He’d be in a mountain of trouble if he was found out. He hadn’t let him suck his own thumb after the incident with Rollins. However, the idea wouldn’t leave him alone. 

He could. It would beat using his finger. Pierce would kill him....

Several weeks later, Rumlow finally did it. He went to the soldier’s cell, clutching a small brown bag. 

“I brought something for my good boy,” he smiled.

“Good boy,” the soldier repeated eagerly, eyes already hooded with desire. 

The two words had come to mean a reward and he liked it. He wanted Brock’s hand but Brock gently grabbed his wrist. “Wait.”

The soldier dropped his hand in confusion. 

Brock opened the bag and withdrew a red pacifier. “Look. It’s for good boy.”

The Asset looked even more confused. 

Brock had figured he would be. He had also brought a small packet of syrup that he’d snitched from the kitchen. 

He dipped the nipple of the pacifier into the syrup and held it to his mouth. “Open.”

Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and pulled the sweetened binky in. 

“Good boy,” Brock praised. 

It was foreign but only for a bit. Pretty soon he was sucking happily at the pacifier, eyes closing as his hand fisted in Commander’s shirt. 

Brock smiled. “Why is that so cute?” He murmured to himself. He sure as hell couldn’t tell anyone else!! He put his arms around the soldier, cuddling and murmuring soft words of praise. He had found a way to get him to relax, even if Pierce wouldn’t agree. He wasn’t all that surprised when the soldier fell asleep in his arms.

Jack was getting suspicious of how much time Brock was spending alone with the Asset. 

“What do you do with him all the time?”

Brock shrugged. “Teaching him to trust me.”

“What happens when he’s supposed to listen to someone else?” Jack asked. 

Brock’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. He hadn’t even considered that possibility! They couldn’t take him away!! He was the Soldier’s handler! 

“Brock?” Jack asked. 

Rumlow shrugged a little. “Guess we’ll see how he reacts to someone else then.”

“Pierce got the report of the last op,” Rollins sighed.

Brock’s head snapped up. He had carefully omitted any mention of the mishap. Why would Rollins be bringing it up.

“The ....real...report.” Jack stared at him. 

Brock felt anxious tingling in his stomach at Jack’s insinuations. “Oh?” He asked blandly. 

“Pierce is going to wipe him today.” 

Brock’s stomach twisted hard at the thought and he swallowed back the vomit that threatened to spill into the back of his mouth. “Oh,” he said again, not able to get any other words past the bile in his throat. 

Jack studied him. “Brock, I know you better than that. You can cover up to just about everybody else but you’ve got some serious feelings for the Asset.”

Brock crossed his arms defensively. “I’m fine.” He got up and made himself slowly walk out of the room. 

He rushed to the soldier’s cell, carefully reaching behind the loose brick and removing the small brown bag. 

He removed the pacifier and the new tiny fuzzy security blanket with a teddy bear head in the middle that the soldier adored so much and stuffed it inside his shirt. He couldn’t chance the soldier showing anyone where it was. He walked deliberately slowly to his locker, discreetly hiding the baby items under his spare clothes. 

The soldier came into the locker room for a shower. He was dirty from a training exercise outside apparently. He looked upset until he saw his handler. He immediately relaxed. 

“Why wasn’t I called to this training exercise with him?” Brock asked darkly. 

“Pierce wanted someone else to do it, to see if he would be obedient like he is with you.”

Once again Rumlow’s gut twisted anxiously.“I’m his handler.”

“Pierce’s orders,” the agent said coolly. “You can shower him though.”

He would tell the techs he was a good boy but only Brock took his boy to the showers and stripped him down. 

“Good boy?” The soldier asked anxiously. 

Brock ignored the plea as he washed the lean bronzed body. 

The soldier repeated his request, grabbing Brock’s hand. 

Rumlow gently untangled his hand. “Not right now, baby.” He pouted and stomped on foot petulantly. 

Brock swatted his bare ass cheek. “Don’t.” 

Once he was showered and diapered, another agent threw a pair of sweats at Rumlow. “Pierce wants him in the chair.”

Brock swallowed hard. “Okay.” He helped the soldier put the sweats on and took him to the maintenance room. 

The Asset stared at him, betrayal clear in his eyes. Brock looked away. He had to. 

“Good boy?” The soldier pleaded as the techs pushed him into the chair. 

“Good boy?” His pleas we’re getting desperate as the restraints locked and the machine started up.

Brock left the room. It was too painful to hear his baby boy beg them not to hurt him. 

Five minutes later, two techs brought the now pliant soldier to Brock. 

He leaned heavily on his handler, drooling slightly. 

Brock had gotten the two items out of his locker and hidden them under his shirt again. He slowly led the Asset to his cell, trying to be sensitive to his painful nerve endings. 

In the cell, Brock carefully put the soldier on his mat, made sure the camera was off and then sat down with his back to the door.

He gently pulled the soldier into his lap, placing the tiny blanket in his limp hand. The pacifier he dipped in a bit of syrup and put against the Asset’s lax lips. 

His tongue worked tentatively to suck the sugary goodness off the pacifier. 

Brock stroked his hair softly. “Good boy.” 


	6. Brock Decides

Brock wasn’t prone to tears. Ever. But holding the broken soldier in his arms was making his eyes water. He was furious. They had wiped him, just because he’d screwed up one shot in sixty years! It wasn’t like they hadn’t gotten the guy. 

He knew it was more than that. He had a niggling suspicion that somehow Pierce had gotten word of his temper tantrum. The Asset wasn’t allowed to show emotion or any kind of independent thought. He stroked the lank dark hair gently. A tear rolled down the soldier’s cheek as he tried to nuzzle into Brock’s gentle touch. 

Filled with a black rage, that was frighteningly calm, Brock started hatching a plan. He would take the soldier away from here. He would keep him safe! They had a mission coming up. He had some time to retrain him. All his hard work was gone!

The soldier finally seemed to come around a bit and sucked at the pacifier hesitantly. He moved slowly, painfully, whimpering softly. 

Brock gently helped him sit up a bit and put the small blanket in his right hand. 

For a moment, the soldier looked at it blankly then slowly lifted the bit of soft fabric to his cheek. “Goo’ boy,” he whispered around his binky.

Brock wanted to hug him tight but he didn’t. “Yes, baby. Yes.” He kept his voice low and comforting. “Commander’s good boy.”

Blinking sleepily, the Asset turned to look at him, his eyes mostly clear now but blank and innocent. He touched Brock’s face with the metal index finger, barely grazing his chin. “C’mander?”

Rumlow smiled at the childlike imitation of the word. “That’s right, baby. Commander.”

The soldier studied his face for quite some time before drifting off to sleep. 

Brock sighed. He was going to make a plan. Ten years of watching them torture this poor man was enough!

When Brock got home that evening, Rollins was waiting for him. “We have a mission.” 

“The soldier won’t be ready for a few days,” Brock said, unlocking his apartment door. 

Rollins followed him in. “The Asset isn’t coming. It’s just you and me.”

Brock looked at him suspiciously. “Why? What are we doing?” 

“Infiltrating a SHIELD base in Turkey. They have intel that Pierce wants. He’s sending us to get it. Should only be a couple days.” He looked sharply at Rumlow. “Your precious baby will be fine. Besides, I think you’ve forgotten, he’s not actually your soldier. He belongs to Hydra.”

Brock felt a very uncomfortable stab of anxiety rush through his gut at the reminder. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said defensively.

Jack raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the issue. “Jet’s leaving at seven tomorrow morning. Be there.”

Rumlow couldn’t sleep. He had to go back to the base and take the pacifier and blanket out of the soldier’s cell. He kept them hidden but if anyone was suspicious they’d search the place. He packed a bag for his trip then went back to the base.

The soldier was awake when he came to the cell, looking around. 

“Hi bud,” he smiled. “I know it’s the middle of the night.”

A confused smile played across the beautiful features. “Commander,” he said in recognition. 

Brock nodded. “That’s right. I have to go away for a few days, but I’ll be back, okay?”

The soldier watched as he retrieved the items he’d hidden behind the loose brick. His eyes brightened. “Good boy?”

Brock checked his watch. “Just for a bit.” He sat down on the mat, pulling the other man snug against his chest before letting him have his pacifier and blanket. 

The soldier’s hand automatically fisted Brock’s shirt as he relaxed and cuddled. 

Rumlow realized the guy was touch starved and he was glad he could give him some loving touch. “I should probably change you,” he said softly, patting the Asset’s soggy diaper. “You’re a wet boy.”

Brock only allowed an hour of cuddling and then seeing that the soldier was getting sleepy, he stuffed the paci and blanket in his shirt. He changed him, talking the whole while, promising that he would be coming back and maybe bring him something if he could. 

He gave the Asset a gentle hug. “Be a good boy,” he whispered, touching his finger to the soldier’s lips.

The Asset sucked his finger for a few moments, laying his head on the commander’s shoulder. 

Brock knew he had to go. He tucked his soldier in with a quick kiss to the forehead and left, swallowing back emotion once again. What the hell was wrong with him? Brock Rumlow didn’t get emotional! 

He was at the hangar before Rollins and stood there, arms crossed, looking very unapproachable when Jack showed up. 

“Not enough coffee?” Jack asked with a smirk. “You look ready to bite off a few heads.”

“Lets just get this op done,” Brock growled. 

On the flight, Jack tried to engage him in conversation but finally gave up after several one word answers. “Brock, for fuck sake. The soldier’s gonna be fine. Is that what’s got your panties in a twist?”

Brock desperately wished he could trust Jack but he couldn’t. He couldn’t trust anyone with his feelings about the Asset and how he was worried about not being there for him for four days. He stared morosely out the window of the jet, wishing he was back at the base, holding his soldier and getting him ready for his breakfast.

Rollins handed him a sheet of paper with instructions for retrieving the intel. Pierce had a tracker on it so it shouldn’t be hard to follow. 

Glad for a distraction from his current thoughts, Rumlow studied the map of the facility that they were going into. It seemed easy enough but he hadn’t been on Strike for this long without learning never to underestimate what could go wrong. He mentally went over every possible scenario and realized that was why Pierce had wanted him here. He was good with organizing and planning, and if things went pear shaped, he kept a cool head. 

Landing in Turkey was pretty much uneventful. As STRIKE members, they were multilingual so there was never an issue with language. Brock was better at it than Rollins and laughed openly as Jack stumbled over the request for a taxi. 

The safehouse was pretty much a fucking hole in the wall. They had to share the single bedroom. Rumlow was so grateful that it was only a couple nights. They were both exhausted the first night and slept because they couldn’t stay awake.

The next morning, they staked out the SHIELD building, watching the normal daytime activity and waiting for the agent to make his move. There didn’t seem to be any suspicious activity yet. “I don’t think they’re expecting anyone,” Rollins said, lowering his binoculars. 

Brock nodded. “Should pretty much be able to follow the agent and take it.” 

Jack rolled onto his side and studied his friend. “So, you gonna tell me?”

Brock glanced at him. “Tell you what?” 

“I know you’re not having sex with the Asset even though that’s what Mercer thinks. What’s going on?” He lazily flicked a bagel crumb from their breakfast at Brock. 

Once again, anxiety made Brock want to squirm but he crushed the desire. “She thinks that?” He gave Jack a little smirk. 

Jack narrowed his eyes. Rumlow was the king of evasion when it came to personal questions. They’d been “friends” for a long time but he didn’t think he could tell anyone anything personal about Brock that couldn’t be read in his file. The guy was intensely private. 

Brock was distracted by sudden movement in the office they were watching. “Hey, is he taking the folder we want?”

Jack picked up his binoculars and looked. “Think so. Time to move.”

Brock activated the tiny tracking device on his watch. “Yep. That’s it. Let’s go.”

They followed the SHIELD agent several hours as he went from place to place but never dropped the folder anywhere. 

“I think he’s trying to throw us off,” Jack grinned. “Obviously he’s never met Pierce’s bulldogs.”

Brock chuckled quietly. “He has no idea.” He sighed deeply. “I hate waiting.” 

The man finally came out of the sixth place and climbed back into his vehicle.

The commander watched the car leave then looked at his watch. “He left the package,” Brock said softly. 

The two STRIKE members walked into the small bakery and looked around. 

Brock walked to the counter and smiled a bit at the pudgy, balding man behind the glass counter. “Two of your coconut creme donuts and the package the SHIELD agent just dropped off.”

The shop owner paused in reaching for the donuts. “Package?” He asked, trying to appear stupid but Brock could see the fear in his eyes. 

He opened his jacket enough to reveal his pistol in its chest holster. “I don’t want to get violent. I just need that intel.”

The man looked torn, but only for a moment. “Are you SHIELD?”

Brock and Jack both nodded. The package was quickly retrieved and they even got their donuts free. 

Rollins thanked him and they left. Now they just had to find the agent and swear him to silence. 

After dinner, back at the safehouse, Rumlow tucked the package safely into the hidden compartment in his suitcase. “Are we going back to stake out the guy’s hotel room?”

Rollins considered. “May as well.”

“Pierce said not to kill him, just threaten him into silence.” Brock got a small case with an array of effective torture devices. 

The stake out ended up being useless. The agent didn’t return to the hotel room. Tired and frustrated, the two men went back to their original post watching the SHIELD building. 

Rollins had dozed off and Rumlow was desperately drinking Red Bull to stay awake when the agent in question slid into the office. 

“Rollins!” Brock said, already up. “C’mon!” He didn’t wait. He hurried across the street to the building and raced up the fire escape stairs to the office in question, hoping the agent was still there. He vaulted silently into the open window and surprised the agent with a hand clamped over his face. “Shhh,” Brock warned. 

The man stopped struggling. “Rumlow,” he guessed.

Brock looked at him. “Yes.” He stared a few moments. “CARSON??” The Agent that he'd thought how many years ago would never make it, was here, smuggling intel! “How’d you end up here?” 

“Long story,” Carson sighed. “I know the routine. You want me to be quiet. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

Brock frowned. “What?” 

“This was a suicide mission.” Carson said. “If you don’t kill me, SHIELD will. I knew you guys were coming for this stuff.”

Brock shook his head. “I wasn’t sent to kill you.”

Carson gave him a sad smile. “I know. Don’t blame yourself.” He pulled a pistol and pressed it to his temple. 

“NO!” Brock yelled but Carson had already pulled the trigger, splattering grey matter and blood on the wall and floor as his body slowly sank to the floor. 

Brock stared at the mess and then was spurred into action by the sound of running footsteps. He fell out the window and ran pellmell down the stairs and back to the stake out site. 

Rollins was just sitting up. “Where’d you go?” 

“We gotta go!” Brock grabbed his arm. “C’mon!” Mostly, killing people didn’t bother Brock. He’d seen the Asset do it a hundred times but something about the way this had gone down was really disconcerting. 

They made it back to the safehouse, where Brock took some time to breathe and regain his calm. 

Rollins asked what had happened but Brock just shook his head. “I’ll tell you on the flight home. Just wanna get outta here.” 

They got onto their morning flight without further incident, and Brock didn’t relax until the jet was safely in the air. He just wanted to get home and get to the base; see his soldier and get some cuddles. 

Rollins wondered what had happened. He was kicking himself for falling asleep and making Brock go through it alone. It had obviously traumatized the guy. Brock had only told him that the agent had died. 

Brock was thoroughly ready to get off the jet when it finally landed. “I’m going to bring this intel to base,” he told Rollins. 

Jack nodded. “Get some rest today.”

Brock had full intentions of doing just that. He was going to sneak the pacifier and blanket to the soldier’s cell, cuddle up to him, and have a nap. 

At the base, people got out of his way very quickly. Brock was glad. He put the package on Pierce’s desk. His desire to see and hold the soldier had become an overwhelming need. He must be tired because everything seemed too hard right now. 

Holding his baby boy was the one thing that would make things better. He found a private corner and stuffed the baby things in his shirt. 

Taking a deep, relaxing breath and letting a smile break through the tight control that he’d been holding on his emotions, he walked to the cell, reaching for the key. 

Brock turned to put the key in the lock and stopped. The smile fell from his face and his stomach felt sick. 

The cell....was empty. 


	7. This Time Around

He might have stood there for two minutes or half an hour, he didn’t know. He stared in stunned silence. The cell wasn’t just unoccupied, as in waiting for the soldier to be returned; it was empty. The mat was gone, the change table was empty and the place smelled of disinfectant. 

A guard was walking by and saw Brock. “Hi Commander.” 

“Did they move the soldier?” He asked. 

The guard nodded hesitantly. “He was put back in cryo. Didn’t they tell you?”

Rumlow gave a curt nod of understanding before escaping as quickly as possible. He couldn’t get home fast enough. His baby wasn’t there. They’d frozen him again! He wanted to scream but he couldn’t past the emotions choking him. 

In his apartment, Brock downed a beer and then grabbed a second one. He had to stop feeling. By the fifth bottle, he was starting to feel less like crying and more like singing off key with the cat food commercial. He drank two more and then passed out on his living room floor. 

Rollins was worried about Brock. He went to the base to hand in his report and was told Rumlow went home already. This was odd. He knew that Brock would’ve wanted to see the Asset. Upon further questioning, he found out that the soldier had been put under again. He wondered if Brock was going to be okay. However, there was no answer when he went and knocked on the commander's apartment. With a shrug, he left, hoping Rumlow wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

 

**2014**

Things at the Hydra base were going pear shaped. Project Insight, Pierce’s baby, was not getting off the ground the way he wanted it to. Nick Fury was fighting him on it and word was Captain America didn’t agree with SHIELD’s way of “protecting” at all. This all filtered down to Rumlow though the grapevine of SHIELD gossip. 

Brock wondered what the Hydra Director was going to do. He’d already infiltrated the government agency so thoroughly that even if Nick Fury got wind of his less than pure intentions, it would be too late. 

Pierce called Rumlow into his office in the SHIELD building. “Wake up the Asset,” he said, eyes boring into Brock’s with intensity. 

Brock stared back into the blue of his eyes as he realized Pierce had gotten old. His face was lined, although his demeanour was still just as commanding as ever. His wrinkles were much more pronounced. “Yes Sir,” he said, not letting the pang of happy enthusiasm show. 

Pierce studied him for another moment. “Agent Rumlow,” he paused until Brock turned back. “I would hope that fifteen years has cooled your jets a little. You have four days to get him ready. Not a lot of time to play around.”

Rumlow gave a small nod then turned to go. Finally. He would see the soldier again. He made sure his steps were unhurried. He had learned so many things in his many years with Hydra. He had only stayed this long because of the Asset. He was still planning his escape with the tortured assassin. He’d finally shared his secret with Rollins. Not all of it. Babying the soldier was still his own intimate little secret. Jack knew about his plan to steal the soldier from under Pierce’s iron fist. 

He strode into the Hydra base, face stern. “Technicians! Orders!” 

The room full of white coats flew to assemble into a tight little circle, watching him. They resembled a flock of ducks, Brock thought, as they waited for him to speak. He gave orders for the cryo tank to be retrieved and for the warming lamps to be set up. 

Brock was beside the table when the techs put the Asset on it to wake him. “Once you have completed your tasks, you are being assigned elsewhere for three hours.”

He rubbed his warm hands over the cold flesh. “I’ll do this today,” he said tersely. “I only need the IV tech.”

The other techs left him instructions and then vanished, not willing to cross the Commander.

His mind strayed back over the time he’d been alone. There had been a few missions in the last fifteen years, but Brock hadn’t had any alone time with him.

He stroked the long damp hair from the strong beautiful face. Fifteen years hadn’t made the feelings he had for the soldier  flag at all. Strangely, the feelings of protectiveness, if anything, had gotten stronger.

He had done many things to stay busy in the last fifteen years. He had trained many young Strike members, made Pierce a rich man, and always appeared to be following Pierce’s directions; yet under it all, he’d carried the same obstinate love for the Asset as last time. He would spend hours, talking, reading or singing to the sleeping soldier.

The only difference this time was that Jack knew about his midnight visits. It had become necessary one evening. 

Brock had been on his way out of the base after spending time with the Asset when he ran straight into Crowley who grinned coldly, tapping his phone.

“Won’t the director be surprised to see that his orders are being disobeyed.”

Brock didn’t hesitate. He shoved Crowley up against the wall, hard, and shoved a knife in his gut. “You will never tell anyone!” He snarled right into Crowley’s pale face.

“Brock.” His captive pleaded faintly. “I won’t.”

“You hurt my soldier!” Brock hissed. He drove the knife into Crowley’s throat. Once he’d calmed down, he dragged the body into the heavily forested area outside of town and dropped it in the middle of the lake where he and Jack often went fishing.

He showed up at Rollins’ apartment, hands bloody and eyes dark with anger.

“What happened to you?” Jack whispered, yanking him in.

Brock told him how he killed Crowley. Jack just nodded and cleaned his best friend up, ditching all the evidence in the incinerator. 

When the police looked for Crowley’s body, however, it had disappeared. 

Jack gave Brock a nod. “You owe me.” After that, Brock trusted Jack with a lot more secrets. 

The Commander sighed, pulling his mind to his current job. He adjusted the heat lamps so the warmth was a bit more intense. The soldier was starting to pink up.

Today he was glad there wasn’t a room full of techs. He wanted it to be just him but he needed the one young tech who was monitoring the soldier’s vitals. 

“Hey baby,” Brock said softly. “You’ve had a long sleep. Time to wake up for me.”

The soldier moved his head towards the sound of Brock’s voice. 

“That’s my good boy,” Brock murmured. He exchanged fresh warm towels for the cooled ones.  

The tech inserted the IV fluid into his right arm, making him flinch. The warm saline drip was started. 

Rumlow stroked his face. “Open your eyes for me, pretty baby.”

The Asset struggled but finally groggily opened his eyes, trying to focus. 

“That’s my good boy,” Rumlow praised softly. He had washed the pacifier and the blanket, and stored them in an airtight bag in his apartment, in a container marked sushi. No one ever bothered to look.

The young tech glanced at his face when he brought the items out but one look at the Commander’s face and he said “I see nothing, Commander Rumlow.”

The Asset started to move more as he regained consciousness. He reached for the IV but the commander took his hand. “None of that now, my boy.”

Brock carefully spread a change pad under him, waiting for the inevitable to know that everything was alright.

The tech was getting the tube and the bag of goop. He held it out to Brock. “You wanna do this?” 

Brock shook his head. “No. I’ll hold him.” 

The soldier started to whimper and shiver. 

Brock felt for him. This must be hard on a body! He ran his hand over the bare, muscled abdomen, massaging gently. “I can get you dressed once you can pee for me, buddy.”

Another full body shiver wracked the soldier’s form and he tried to speak. “C-c.” 

Rumlow stroked his hair. “Commander’s right here.”

He opened his eyes and found Brock’s face, immediately relaxing, his fingers grasping for Brock’s shirt. “Com-mander,” he stuttered, shivering. 

A slow stream of dark urine soaked the change pad and Brock nodded. “That’s my good boy.”

The tech looked up. “Make sure he drinks plenty.”

Brock got the clean diaper and the sweat pants that lay at the foot of the table. Moving him gently, Brock got him dressed and covered his bare chest with another warm towel. “We’re gonna get your vitamin crap going and give you a drink.” 

First a bottle of warm water was held to his chattering lips and he drank eagerly. It was almost empty before he let go of the bottle.

The tech stepped forward, tube in hand. Brock held him firmly around his chest. 

The soldier tried to fight back but he was still weak. He wailed until the tube went in and silenced him. 

Brock popped the pacifier into his mouth to soothe him. “I know. I know. It sucks! Commander will help.”

The distraught soldier immediately settled, sucking hard at the pacifier as the drip started. He snuffled and coughed as the drip started but then resumed his sucking.

When Brock put the tiny scrap of blanket next to his cheek, his eyes closed halfway and he smiled happily. 

“Sir?” The tech asked softly. 

Brock looked up with a scowl, miffed at being interrupted. “What?” 

“What shall I tell Director Pierce about this?” The young man looked frightened. 

“You’re not going to tell him anything,” Brock said, pinning the tech with a penetrating glare. “I disabled the camera feed.”

The tech visibly relaxed. “Oh good. Commander, my job is done. Just watch him for the usual.”

Brock nodded, dismissing him with a vague wave of his hand. 

That night, he was finally able to sleep with the soldier curled up against him again. To his dismay, there were tears. The soldier cried unable to express what he needed. 

Brock wondered at the unusual emotions that the Asset was displaying. He was weepy even after a change and a second feeding. Brock let him have his pacifier and blanket. 

The soldier finally slept. 

Training the first day was hell. Every time he would fall or bump his leg he would cry.

Brock couldn’t figure it out. Should he talk to the techs? He was useless in the field like this. When the Asset sat down and howled the third time, Brock pulled him to his feet with a light swat. “Stop it! You’re not even hurt.”

The soldier pouted, his lower lip wobbling dangerously. 

Brock finally asked one of the technicians about it, and frowned when she looked sad. “He’s been frozen so often, his body and mind are starting to break down. I can give him a combination serum/steroid shot.”  

Brock looked at her startled. “Breaking down?” That didn’t sound good! 

She nodded. “Bring him in. I’ll fix him up.”

The soldier did NOT like the painful steroid shot at the top of his buttock but Rumlow managed to keep him under control. To his relief, a few hours later, the Asset was much more himself. 

“Let’s get back to training,” Brock said, touching his elbow.

The soldier stopped for a moment, stared at his elbow and then looked at Brock. A small smile broke over his face. “Good boy.”

Rumlow nodded. “That’s right. If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you have your stuff.”

It took a moment of processing but the soldier nodded and headed towards the training course again. He ran it flawlessly this time, just like Brock knew he could. 

“That’s my boy,” Brock hollered, cheering. 

The soldier was spurred on by the praise. 

Brock laughed. It was so good to be the handler again. He had really missed it.  


	8. The Captain

The Asset was happy in his cell, with Commander. He’d completed his training and received cuddles and time with his blanket and pacifier. 

Commander had changed him. He was so gentle with the soldier it was becoming harder to remember what it had been like before Commander had been his handler. 

He vaguely remembered being hit for things but not in a long time. The man he’d been most afraid of, Agent Crowley, hadn’t been in charge of him since he’d been awakened. He didn’t mind. 

He was surprised that his mind hadn’t been wiped in the chair. He remembered the Commander, and he remembered what had happened before he was put in cryo. He remembered that Commander had been gone. He’d asked for his handler. Begged for him. Crowley had smacked him across the face and then they had prepared him for the long cold sleep. 

The commander sang a soft song and the soldier stopped moving, listening as he recognized it. He didn’t know why he recognized it. He didn’t recall ever hearing it before. 

“Song?” He asked. 

“It’s one of the songs I grew up with. Mr. Mister sang it. It’s called Kyrie.” The commander smiled. “It means Lord have mercy.” He chuckled a little. “I sang that song to you every day while you were sleeping.”

The soldier considered his words. “Mercy.”

Commander nodded. “Not something Hydra knows much about.” 

The guard came by. “Secretary Pierce is coming for the Asset.”

Brock leapt to his feet, quickly taking the childish items from the soldier. “He wasn’t supposed to get him until tomorrow.”

The guard shrugged. “Orders have changed.”

Rumlow got the Asset up and hurried him to the locker room where he got him dressed in his tactical gear. “Be good,” he said softly when Mercer came in to get him. 

The soldier looked at him and then obediently went with the female agent. 

Brock received orders shortly after to apprehend Steve Rogers. He sighed. Seriously, Pierce. Rogers?? He gathered his team and headed to the SHIELD offices. 

When he heard that Rogers had murdered Fury, it made him do a double take. “What the hell?” He said to Rollins. “That seems crazy.”

Jack nodded. “Yep. But we have our orders. Unless you plan to cross Pierce and run, I’d advise you to just go with it.” 

Brock watched in awe as Captain America took out an entire Strike team in the elevator. He held up his hands. “I’m turning a blind eye, Cap. Just go. I don’t agree with everything Hydra does either.”

Rogers looked at him a long, intense moment and then took a running jump out the elevator window to land on his shield some twenty stories below and run. 

Rumlow wished he had that much strength to take on a whole government corporation.  

Back at the base, he didn’t say anything about his interaction with Cap or the fact that he’d let him go. 

Pierce was demanding the Strike team and the Asset to find and kill Sitwell and the Captain as Sitwell had sold them out. 

Brock got the team together and picked the soldier up from Mercer. 

Rollins looked grim. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Rumlow quirked an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation. 

“Dunno,” Jack mumbled. “Just feels off.”

They hit the bridge with the Asset tense and ready. 

Brock gave him a firm squeeze on his arm. “Do your job.”

The soldier went into action, and once again, Brock was overwhelmed with how easily he did his work. The muzzle and the goggles helped him stay focused. 

The rest of the team got into place once Sitwell was flung over the side into oncoming traffic. 

Cap was another story. He had help! 

Brock was trying to keep the Asset in line and make sure he didn’t get hurt. 

The Black widow hit his goggles with a bullet, and the soldier tossed them away, annoyed. 

“You good?” The commander yelled, getting him back on his feet. 

The Asset nodded curtly and started off again. Brock watched when he and Cap came face to face. They were evenly matched. He knew the Asset had the serum too. 

Suddenly, Rogers knocked the soldier back particularly hard and his muzzle was thrown with the blow. 

Rogers face registered shock. “Bucky??”

The soldier, stared, frozen for the space of ten seconds. “Who the hell is Bucky?” 

Rollins threw a smoke bomb, Rumlow leashed the soldier, tumbling into the vehicle and left the rest of the team to grab Rogers. “Go!” He yelled at the driver. 

Brock patted the soldier’s heaving chest as they sped away. “Good boy.” 

The Asset was pale and sweating, his eyes darting from one thing to the next. “Bucky. Who the hell is Bucky?” 

“I don’t know,” Brock scowled. There was obviously something Pierce hadn’t told him!! Cap _knew_ the Asset?? It would’ve been **_nice_** to know!! 

The soldier didn’t settle down even when they got to base.

Brock accosted Pierce in his office, jaw tight and fists clenched. “Who the hell is Bucky??”

Pierce smiled, slow and knowing. “Bucky Barnes was Steve Rogers’ closest childhood friend. Hydra found him when he fell from the train in ‘43 and we’ve had him ever since.”

Brock’s mouth opened then closed because he had nothing to say. The fact that Pierce had answered his question without even being addressed as Sir, told Brock he’d been waiting for it. 

Pierce walked out to the room where the Asset was already in the chair, and demanded a mission report. 

The soldier stayed quiet until Pierce smacked his face. Brock bit back an expletive. 

“The man on the bridge,” The soldier murmured. “I knew him.”

Brock waited to see what the Secretary would tell the Asset. 

Pierce didn’t answer.  He tried again to get the mission report and when the Asset asked again about Rogers, he got up. “Wipe him and start over.” The restraints started to move. 

Brock’s eyes widened. He remembered what the tech had said about his mind and body breaking down. “Wait!” 

Pierce slowly turned. “Yes, Agent Rumlow? You object?” 

Brock thought fast. “Sir, if I may, he’s always a little unstable directly afterwards and he needs changing. I haven’t changed him since we got back.”

The Secretary considered his words then turned to a tech. “Is he wet?”

The tech grabbed at the soldier’s crotch and checked. Brock held his breath. 

The tech nodded. “Yes Sir.” 

“Make it quick.” Pierce strode to the door. “I’ve got work for him to do!”

Brock was floored. Pierce was a monster!

He led the soldier to the locker room, grabbed a few clean diapers out of his locker and the two baby items he needed for later, then swiftly and silently, they hurried to a back entrance of the base. “They’ll know soon so be a good boy and stay with Commander,” he whispered. 

The soldier followed him outdoors without question, only looking back once. 

Brock hurried to his car, buckled the Asset into the back seat and left the Hydra base. “We need to save Steve Rogers,” he said. 

“Mission: kill Steve Rogers,” The soldier said.

Brock got onto a grid road as quickly as possible then hurried to Rollins’ place where he took Jack’s little beater car, leaving his Subaru in its place in the garage. 

The soldier seemed a little anxious at the impromptu road trip. “Commander. Mission incomplete. Commander.” He flapped his hands nervously. 

Brock dug in the bag and grabbed the paci. “Here. Good boy.” He wondered where Strike had put Rogers. He could call Rollins and find out. He realized at that moment he’d left his phone in his car. “Dammit!” 

The Asset settled down, one hand on his cheek where his blanket would be if he had it, and the other clasping and unclasping the hem of Brock’s T-shirt. 

Brock started to shake with nerves as his adrenaline crashed. He’d done it! He’d taken the Asset away from Pierce. Now what? He needed to find Steve Rogers. Captain America would know what to do. Problem was, he had no idea how to find him, and no way of contacting anyone. 

Shrugging off the hopelessness, Brock squared his shoulders and raised his jaw. He could do it. He was Brock Rumlow. Handler to the soldier. That’s all that had ever mattered. 


	9. Heart of the Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for LokiLaufeyson88 by request <3

Brock drove until the gas tank was wavering on empty and the Asset had been asleep and awake for awhile. 

He stopped at a small motel and paid for a room, then took the soldier into the nondescript room, putting down the backpack with the Asset’s things. “Commander has to use the bathroom and then I’ll change you and get you fed,” he said. 

The soldier nervously bounced on his toes, following Brock’s trajectory to the bathroom with anxious eyes. 

“Stay!” He ordered firmly. He opted not to close the door, afraid the soldier might try to leave. 

Once he’d relieved himself, he scrubbed his hands to make the Asset’s shake. As he prepared it, the soldier continued to pace and whimper softly. 

“Let’s get you changed,” Brock said, getting out not just the changing supplies but also the small blanket and the freshly washed pacifier. It had gathered lint from being stuck in Brock’s shirt pocket. 

The soldier reached for his blanket eagerly, smushing it to his face with a little happy giggle. 

Brock chuckled at the sound and gave him the pacifier. “Be a good boy and lay still. You’re a smelly boy.” He cleaned him and put him in a fresh diaper. 

The Asset sat on the bed, his nose buried in the blanket and looking sleepy. 

“You need to eat first,” Brock said. He put the shake in the soldier’s hands. 

The Asset shook his head and whimpered pushing the shake back at Brock, turning away. 

Brock raised an eyebrow. “What? I know you gotta be hungry!” He tried again but this time the soldier got off the bed, whining behind his binky and walked away from Brock to sit in a corner, still nuzzling his blanket. The Commander frowned. “I guess you’ll be ready to eat in the morning.”

It had been one hell of a day and Brock was dead tired. He got the soldier in bed beside him, stroking his hair back from his face. “Hey baby. I know now who Bucky is.”

The Asset looked at him silently, blue eyes wide and curious but still a little wary. 

“You are Bucky,” Brock smiled, putting a finger gently to his chest. “Captain America’s best friend.” 

Bucky frowned a little in confusion but snuggled against his handler’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

Brock sang the song Kyrie again, softly, maybe a little off key but the soldier didn’t seem to mind. He drifted off. 

Brock slept fitfully, despite how tired he was. Every time the soldier would fidget or twitch, he’d wake up again. 

The morning brought grey clouds and rain. Brock didn’t mind exactly except that Bucky was difficult. He was cranky and out of sorts. Once he was changed, he went back to pacing nervously, clinging to his security blanket like a lifeline. 

The commander figured his mood wasn’t helped by the obvious hunger. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday. He made a fresh shake and patted the bed. “Come sit.”

The Asset sat warily, watching him. As soon as Brock tried to give him his shake, he pulled back, refusing the straw. 

“You gotta eat,” Brock said firmly. 

Bucky shook his head, whining plaintively. 

“Use your words, baby,” Brock said, taking a deep breath for patience. He was tired and hadn’t had coffee yet. 

Bucky started bouncing again, flapping his hands and then broke back into pacing. 

Brock gave up, packing the few things they had, then took the Asset’s hand and put him back in the car. Maybe he would take it once they were on the road.

They stopped to get fuel, and Brock grabbed a coffee and a bottle of Gatorade. His mind was busy trying to figure out why the soldier wouldn’t drink his shakes. 

They'd driven several miles when the soldier pointed at his coffee. He made a distinct whine behind his paci. 

Brock shook his head. “You’re not having coffee. Here.” He took the shake from the cup holder and tried to give it to him.

Bucky howled like Brock had burned him, pushing the cup away forcefully.

Only Brock's quick reflexes saved it from hitting the floor. “What is your problem?!” He yelled, slamming on the brakes. The road was empty so he pulled over.

The Asset immediately cowered into his seat, hiding behind his hair, flapping the hand that wasn’t holding the blanket, anxiously. 

“I’m sorry,” Brock apologized, a few minutes later. “Commander shouldn’t have yelled. Why won’t you drink your shake?” 

Bucky made the same screeching noise as earlier and flailed his right arm. “Mission! Mission failed! Mission failed!”

Brock finally understood. After a failed mission, the soldier had often been denied food as punishment. That brought him to a very big problem. The soldier would starve himself. He was programmed and his programming was telling him that the shake wasn’t allowed. He didn’t try to give him the shake anymore. 

Brock sighed. He’d have to try and find some of the vitamin crap and a nose tube. Fortunately, he had contacts. 

By the time they got to the next motel that evening, the Asset was shaking with lack of nutrition. He wouldn’t talk; just wanted his pacifier and blanket. 

Brock had indeed secured an NG feeding tube and a couple of bags of the brown vitamin sludge. He tried not to cringe. The stuff was disgusting but the soldier had to eat. 

After a change, Brock lay out the stuff and put sterile gloves on. “Lay down, buddy.”

Bucky eyed the items and shook his head again. 

Brock was starting to lose patience. He hadn’t saved the guy to have him starve to death because he was stubborn! “Come here,” he ordered. 

The Asset came as ordered but he was trembling from head to toe. 

Brock put him on the bed. “You need to eat.” He held him down with one hand and brought the tube forward. 

Without warning, the soldier screamed, fighting the intrusive feeding system. 

Brock flung himself on top of the writhing man, successfully pinning him down. Ignoring the screaming, he held Bucky’s head and carefully threaded the tube in through his nose. He was thankful he’d done it before on other people. 

The soldier kept thrashing under him until the tube was in. He gagged several times, trying to rid himself of the tube. Even though he couldn’t make sounds, he continued sobbing, tears streaming down his face.

Brock felt his own emotions crumbling at the obvious emotional pain he was putting the Asset through. “Baby, you have to eat,” he protested. He tried the pacifier but the soldier refused. 

Thoroughly upset now, Brock pushed the goop through as quickly as he dared, talking soothingly as much as his anxiety would let him. 

Bucky wasn’t thrashing anymore but the tears wouldn’t stop. He refused any comfort. 

Finally it was empty and Brock pulled the tube out, expecting an angry tirade. Instead, the soldier ran to a corner and hid his face in his knees, whimpering and keening softly. 

Brock felt like a monster. He took the pacifier and blanket and gently knelt beside the quivering man. “It’s okay, baby. Shhh. Commander’s good boy?”

The soldier slowly looked at him, eyes red from crying and face wet with tears and snot. “Good boy?” 

Brock mopped his face up with a Kleenex and offered him the paci and blanket. “Good boy,” he reassured. 

Bucky took the items and then curled into the commander, sighing shakily and sucking hard as he attempted to soothe himself.

Brock watched him, stroking the sweat damp hair, glad he’d gotten him calmed down. If the soldier was to go into meltdown, there was no telling what he might do. He would simply have to find another method of feeding him. But what?? 

The soldier slept better that night, having a full stomach. Brock slept but woke early, his mind busy with the problem. How could he feed his soldier? He watched the contented movement of the pacifier as Bucky sucked on it in his sleep. He stared at it for a moment as an idea slowly started coming to him. 

What....if.... Brock frowned. Where would he find such a thing? And how would he even figure out how to mix a formula strong enough for the soldier’s metabolism? He loved that damn pacifier. 

 He thought about it for about half an hour before picking up the burner phone he’d purchased yesterday. He punched in a number he was very familiar with. 

 The phone was picked up and Brock spoke quietly so as not to wake up the Asset. “Rollins. I need to talk to a doctor. Do you have someone safe to talk to?”

“Rumlow! Good thing you covered your tracks. Pierce is ready to kill! He wants the Asset back. He’s put me on a mission to find you.” Jack gave a low chuckle. “Where should I look.”

Rumlow sighed with relief. “You should probably start with Mexico. Because, of course, that’s where I’d go, right?” 

“Right,” Jack agreed. “Is the soldier alright?”

“He’s fine. Just won’t eat. I need to talk to a doctor.” Brock tried not to let too much of his worry bubble over. “I also want to find Rogers but I don’t even know where to start! He looked at the bed where the soldier was fidgeting. “I gotta go. I’ll call back in three days for the info.” 

“No need.” Jack paused. “Dr. Bruce Banner should be able to develop a formula and give you info on Rogers.” Rollins rolled off the scientist’s number. “You planning to give the Asset up?”

“I don’t know,” Rumlow admitted. He thanked him and hung up. “Hm,” he said to himself. “Two birds with one stone.” For the next couple of days, he would use baby formula and a bottle. He knew the Asset loved his pacifier, maybe Brock could add one more thing to the ‘good boy’ list.

He desperately hoped it would work. 

When the soldier was awake, changed and dressed, Brock drove to the small pharmacy he’d found after asking the hotel proprietor earlier. 

“Can you stay in the car?” He asked, handing the soldier his blanket again. 

Bucky nodded. 

Brock hurried in, looking in dismay at the wide variety of baby items. Definitely the biggest bottle....he grabbed two plastic eight ounce baby bottles and several cans of prepared Similac formula that was for toddlers. It had to have nutrition in it, right? He was so out of his league! A bright blue and yellow toy car caught his attention and on a whim, he tossed it in his basket then quickly paid. 

“First baby?” The cashier asked curiously. 

Rumlow smiled a little. “Babysitting is more like it.” 

Back in the car, he gave the soldier the new toy and drove out of town to find a spot where he could feed the soldier privately. 

Bucky was curious and played with the toy until they pulled into a small rest area. They were alone here. 

Brock wished he’d thought to grab water to wash the bottles. With a shrug, he filled it with the formula. Screwing the lid on firmly, he got out. “C’mon buddy. Let’s sit on this bench here.”

The soldier followed him, eyeing the bottle curiously. 

Brock lay him comfortably across his lap, his head against his bicep. “Commander has a treat for you, for my good boy.”

The Asset perked up. He allowed Brock to take the paci and slowly accepted the new nipple. Not used to it, he choked and coughed but then eagerly drank, being hungry. 

Brock felt tears sting his eyes. Pierce was not winning this battle! He had figured out a way to keep his soldier from starving. With tender loving care and guidance maybe he could break the programming. 

Brock held the bottle for him, gratified that he was eating so well! One more step in the right direction.  His heart melted a bit more when some of the formula dropped out of his mouth as he tried to swallow too fast. 

“Good milk for my good boy,” he smiled. He didn’t know if he could give the soldier up. He loved his baby boy so much. 

Rogers might have to share. 


	10. Finding Steve

Rumlow wasn’t altogether sure about contacting Banner after thinking about it for most of the day. He had let Rogers go, sure, but he was still Hydra. He glanced at the soldier, sucking back another bottle of formula. It obviously didn’t stay with him long! He’d gone through all six cans of formula already in one fucking day! Brock was overjoyed that he was eating but he had to find a cheaper option! One can only gave ten ounces of formula so that sucked royally. 

He pulled into Colorado City, feeling confident that he was far enough from DC to chance staying in a city. Before hitting a motel, he found a small pharmacy, thinking it was less likely he’d be recognized and reported, and took one of the empty formula cans in. 

The elderly lady at the counter looked at the can he had then shrugged and pointed him to the balding pharmacist. 

Brock wished he’d gone to a bit bigger pharmacy after all. These people didn’t seem to know what they were doing. “I need some of this brand of formula, but do you have bigger cans? My....kid... is going through it pretty fast.”

The pharmacist nodded and showed him a large can of powder. “You can mix this with sterilized water for the same formula. It makes,” he adjusted his glasses lower on his nose as he read the small print. “A hundred and two, six ounce bottles.” 

“Perfect,” Brock said. He grabbed two cans of formula and two jugs of sterilized water. A starter pack of Playtex nursers caught his eye since they advertised ‘bacteria free feeding’ (whatever the hell that was!) He'd noticed that the cheap bottles he’d bought didn’t clean well. He added a measuring cup to mix the formula and took three bags of adult diapers as well. The cashier looked askance at his odd conglomeration of purchases but didn’t ask. After paying for everything, he hustled his bags to the car where the Asset was still playing with the toy car he’d given him. Brock rolled his eyes. Go figure. Assassin extraordinaire. Loves toddler toys. 

They found a small motel that was better maintained than most they’d stayed at. The soldier seemed calmer tonight. He was talking to himself, until Brock started unpacking the bags. 

“Commander; see?” He asked, coming over to the desk where Brock was preparing to make up a few bottles.

The instructions on the can seemed simple enough. “Don’t touch!” He said firmly when Bucky reached for one of the new nursers. He understood now why they were cleaner. They came with disposable liners, rather than a bottle that had to be washed.

He rinsed the six nipples under hot water in the bathroom. There were four eight ounce bottles and two four ounce in the starter pack along with fifty liners of each size. The bottle rings were different bright colours that the Asset was probably going to like.

With painstaking care, he used the large measuring cup he’d purchased, measured the water and the formula and stirred it with a wooden stir stick from the coffee maker tray. 

The soldier was bouncing in anticipation. “Milk? Commander? Good boy?”

”Yep, hold your horses,” Brock said, carefully filling a bottle and turning the lid and nipple on snugly. “Gotta change your diaper first” 

Bucky paused. “Milk?” 

Brock patted the bed, getting a diaper and wipes. “Change.” 

He pouted but only for a moment then came to his handler and obediently lay on the bed. 

“Here,” Brock smiled, putting the toy car in his hands again. 

The soldier turned the wheels, mesmerized with the turning colours. 

Brock changed him, chuckling as he thought back to that first diaper change. It felt like a lifetime ago.

He ordered dinner for himself after he was done changing Bucky and then got the bottle. “C’mon baby.”

The Asset eagerly snuggled in, reaching for the milk. When the Commander gave it to him, he suckled happily, his eyes fixed on his handler’s face. “‘Mander.” He smiled, tongue working to keep the nipple in even while he tried to talk. He patted the commander’s cheek with his hand, cuddling into his grip. 

“What?” Brock asked softly, stroking back the soft dark hair. “This is good milk for my good boy.”  He caught a second drip of formula with his finger as it formed at the edge of his baby boy’s mouth. “Slow down, darling.”  

His phone rang suddenly, jerking him out of his peaceful moment.  With a touch of dread, he answered it curtly. “Yeah?” 

“I heard you were looking for Steve,” the unfamiliar voice said on the other end. 

Rumlow paused, tossing about who might have gotten his number. “Who is this?” 

“Listen, if you’ve got Bucky, Steve is gonna be in New York City, Central Park across from the coffee shop in two days. Meet him there.” The line went dead. 

Brock held the phone for several minutes, thinking about the message. He knew for certain it wasn’t Pierce or Rollins. He knew most of the Hydra agents’ voices. 

Slurping sounds distracted him and he realized the bottle was empty and he had a very sleepy boy in his arms. He took the empty bottle and quickly replaced it with the binky when the soldier started to whine and squirm. “Shh,” he soothed. 

After his own dinner arrived, he ate in silence, pondering the phone call some more. He would start to New York tomorrow. If he didn’t see Steve when he got to Central Park, he would leave. Simple as that. 

He climbed into bed beside Bucky and fell into a light sleep. 

The next two days were spent driving. 

The first morning, just after Brock stopped for a quick potty break and to grab a coffee, he wasn’t a happy boy and he wouldn't tell Brock why. His eyes darted around, looking guilty as hell but Brock couldn’t figure it out. 

Brock tried to ignore him after trying everything, letting him whine. He ate his cheezies and drank the coffee he’d just picked.

He was unsure how he had finished off a whole bag of Doritos already this morning, but they were empty. He was gonna have to do some major working out! Buying a big bag of chips at every gas station wasn’t exactly healthy but he needed something to keep his mind off of the inevitable meeting coming up! 

Bucky threw his head back and cried, fisting his hands in his T-shirt and squirming. 

The commander tried giving him his blanket and pacifier but he shook his head, whining. He didn’t want his bottle either which worried Brock. 

He finally pulled into a small, empty rest spot and got out, helping Bucky out. “What’s the matter, Baby? Why are you not drinking your milk?” It had been three hours since his last bottle. Usually he took it, no problem. 

Bucky paced for a few moments, whining and pouting intermittently. Suddenly he stopped, his big eyes focused on Brock. He whimpered and then puked violently. 

The commander immediately came to his side and rubbed his back. That’s what the problem was! He’d been feeling sick! He was glad he hadn’t thrown up in the car! Blech! 

Bucky threw up again, gagging. He staggered a bit. 

Brock supported him, glancing at the mess. He frowned. “What the hell??! You ate my Doritos? No wonder you’re sick!” He sighed. He’d only been in the gas station for three minutes to use the bathroom. Obviously long enough for the Asset to eat enough Doritos to make him violently ill. 

Once he was done throwing up, Brock gave him some water from the bottle he’d bought to rinse his mouth. “Have a drink.” 

Bucky drank eagerly. “Commander. Milk?” He gasped, pushing the bottle of water away when he’d had enough.

Brock nodded and put him back in the car.

The soldier took his blanket and bottle easily now, falling into a light doze while he nursed. 

Rumlow thought ahead to what would happen, should Steve be at Central Park. The thought of being without the soldier was frightening. He loved him so much. Brock knew he couldn’t go back to Hydra. They would kill him. They might still kill him. He knew they were actively looking for him. 

They didn’t stop at a motel that night. Brock grabbed a few hours of sleep in the car after changing the soldier in the backseat. 

Bucky was settled now and slept pretty well even as they drove. 

Once the Asset was awake and had been changed and fed, Brock took his hand. “Buddy, I have to tell you something and you gotta listen, okay?”

The soldier nodded. 

Brock took a deep breath. “We’re going to find Steve Rogers.”

He processed that for a moment. “Complete the mission.”

Brock shook his head. “No. Listen to me. Steve is our friend.” 

“Mission,” Bucky said stubbornly. 

Brock frowned at him. “You’re a real stubborn son of a bitch, you know that? No wonder Pierce wanted you.”

The soldier stared straight ahead. “Steve Rogers. Who the hell is Bucky?” 

“You are Bucky,” Brock said, touching his shoulder. 

The Asset frowned a little. “Who the hell is Bucky?” 

“You are Bucky,” Rumlow repeated, with a small smile. 

The soldier paused. “Who-.....Who...?” 

“You an owl?” Brock teased softly, grinning at the man next to him. 

This response distracted the Asset. “Owl?” He looked confused as all hell and Brock couldn’t keep the laughter in at how cute he was. 

They fell silent after the exchange, until they had pulled up in front of Central Park. Brock’s stomach was doing a nervous rhumba. He scanned the park for Hydra agents for several minutes. There didn’t seem to be any as far as he could see. 

He saw the man by himself on the bench, sweats, hoodie, looking completely nonchalant except for the tension in his shoulders. Steve Rogers. 

Brock scanned the park once more before getting out of the car. “Rogers.”

The man looked up, then stood, his face hesitantly hopeful. He jogged over. “Rumlow,” he said, his tone civil. “I was told you’d rescued Bucky. I’m really grateful.” 

“I did.” Brock studied the captain for a moment. “You got somewhere we can go to talk? Privately? Bucky needs a change.”

Steve looked confused. “A change?” 

“Long story,” Brock sighed. 

 Steve thumbed his hand towards Brooklyn. “I took a cab here.” 

“I’ll give you a ride back,” Brock said. 

 Steve said little as he got into the back seat, looking at Bucky in confusion and wistful hope. 

 Brock didn’t give any explanations as they started off. He just wanted to get out of the area. 

 Steve directed him to the older area of Brooklyn, to an unassuming apartment block. “I have a two bedroom place here.” 

“Good,” Brock said, “I'll be staying for awhile.”


	11. Friend In Deed

The apartment was definitely older, but well maintained and neat. 

Brock set down his bags and looked around. 

The soldier bounced a little, flapping both hands nervously like he always did when he didn’t know what was expected. 

Brock got a clean diaper and wipes out. “Let’s get you changed,” he said gently, touching the Asset’s elbow. 

Bucky paused in his stimming and then nodded, laying down on the living room floor where he was pointed to. “Good boy?” He asked. 

Brock ignored Steve’s shocked and confused look, giving his boy the pacifier he wanted. “There you go. Now be a good boy so commander can change you.”  

The soldier lay quiet, murmuring behind the paci and playing with his fingers. 

Steve stood several feet away, watching. “He’s...not, uh, toilet trained?”

Brock shook his head, finishing up. “I’ve been his handler for over twenty years. He’s never gonna be toilet trained. He’s been wiped and frozen too often.” He didn’t tell Steve about the tech’s dire premonition. He hoped it was averted. 

Steve looked sad for a moment before the emotion was carefully hidden again. Poor Bucky! Why had he let him fall!! He took a deep breath. “So....you left Hydra?” 

“If Pierce doesn’t find me, yeah,” Brock said with a small smile. He would not give the soldier up easily. 

“Shouldn’t have to worry then,” Steve said softly. “Pierce was killed yesterday. There was a big ruckus at the Triskelion. Project Insight is finished, Pierce was shot and killed and Hydra’s files were spilled onto the Internet.”

Brock stared at him, not comprehending immediately. “What?” He asked in shock, a weird angst filling his gut. He didn’t care about Pierce. His mind focused on the only person at Hydra who had ever mattered besides the Asset . “Where’s Rollins?” 

Steve bit his lip. “Not sure. It was chaos.”

Rumlow sat back a minute after finishing. “Damn.”  Rollins was as close to a best friend as he’d had in this lifetime. 

Unaware of the life altering news, the soldier got to his feet. “Commander. Milk?” 

“Yeah, baby,” Brock said thinly. “Right away.” He had to mix more formula but his brain was in shock. He wanted to call Jack immediately! He resisted, putting his training to use and mixing the formula carefully. He washed the bottles then filled them all. “Can these go in your fridge?” He asked Steve.

Once again, Steve looked overwhelmed with confusion at Bucky’s treatment. 

Brock was too worried about Jack right now to care. “C’mon baby boy.” He patted the couch. 

The soldier sat, reaching for the bottle. 

Brock cuddled him with one arm while he got his phone out. “Drink your milk. Commander has to make a phone call.”

Jack’s phone rang once, twice, three times and the answering machine picked up. He left a message for Jack to call him. 

Steve hesitantly came closer. “How long has he been...fed...like this?” 

Brock had to switch gears. “What? Oh. Three days. He wouldn’t take his usual food because of how he was programmed and I wasn’t gonna let him starve himself. I’ve gotta find out if Jack’s okay!” 

Steve nodded, not understanding fully, but trying to. “I-I can stay with Bucky till you get back up here.” 

Brock nodded. “Thanks.”

When the Asset was done with his milk, Brock gave him his blanket, paci and toy car. “Look at Commander,” he ordered gently. 

Bucky met his eyes. 

Brock stroked his jaw. “Commander has to go out for a few minutes. Captain Rogers is going to stay with you here.”

The soldier blinked slowly and then looked at the new person he’d hardly registered. “Steve Rogers. Who the hell is Bucky?”

The Commander chuckled. “This is his favourite new game.” He ruffled the Asset”s hair fondly. “YOU the hell is Bucky, you stinker.”

Steve cracked a smile. “What do I need to do with him?” 

“I won’t be gone long,” Brock promised. “Just gonna call some contacts. I gotta find Jack. He’s my best friend...” he trailed off. 

Steve nodded in understanding. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

Brock took the stairs two at a time and got to the car, calling Jack again. “Answer!” He pleaded softly. There was still no answer. He deliberated. Maybe Rollins was in the hospital. He didn’t really know what to do. He was in New York. His gut was telling him he had to get to DC. Dammit! He put his head in his hands and curled over, letting silent, dry, heaving sobs wrack his body. He was tired and he wasn’t functional right now. Too much stress lately. His chest hurt a lot.

Steve was watching the Hydra Commander our the window. His whole demeanour suggested that he was exhausted. Picking up his phone, he called Natasha. Brock had saved Bucky. The least he could do was help find Jack.

Nat answered immediately. “Hey, Rogers.”

Steve looked at Bucky for a moment, content to play with the toy the commander had given him. He’d get to the bottom of that soon. “I need you to get intel on someone for me.”

She paused. “Depends. I’m not exactly able to just dance into any high security places right now.” 

“I know.” He paused to gather courage. “I need to know what happened to Jack Rollins.”

Nat was quiet for so long he thought she’d hung up on him. Then she said, “He brought Bucky back to you?”  

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll see if I can find him.” She ended the conversation like she always did by just hanging up. Steve wasn’t hurt by it any longer.

Steve felt better, like he’d done something good. He checked on Brock again. The commander was leaned on the hood of the car, motionless, thoroughly dejected. 

Brock didn’t even know who to call. His panic had given way to sadness. While he’d taken the Asset and run, Jack had needed him here. Without a plan to go on, he slowly made his way back to Steve’s apartment. When he walked in, the soldier looked up, his face lighting up with recognition and happiness. 

“Commander.” He dropped his pacifier and got to his feet and came to Brock, curling into him for a hug. 

Brock wrapped his arms around him, grounding himself with the fact that this man needed him, his handler. He took a deep breath. He’d get through this. He had the Asset. 

Steve was watching them. “I have one of my friends looking for Jack,” he said gently. 

Brock looked at him. “You do?” He asked stupidly. “Why? I mean, why would you do that for me?” 

“Best friends are hard to come by,” Steve said softly. 

Brock nodded, looking at the captain with newfound respect. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Things were awkward for the first few hours. Conversation was stilted as they felt each other out. 

Bucky noticed this, and he noticed Brock’s tension because he began getting cranky, and when Bucky got cranky he got unpredictable and uncooperative. He bounced in front of the tv, even though Brock had told him to sit three times already. 

Brock’s patience was thin, between little sleep, his worry over Jack and just the general stress of the last few days.  “Sit,” Brock ordered wearily. He took a deep breath when the Asset stomped his foot and pouted. He liked the tv and wanted to stand in front of it. 

“Bucky Barnes, sit your bottom down now,” Steve interjected suddenly his voice quiet but very firm. 

The soldier’s eyes swung to the captain, registering surprised wariness. He immediately dropped to his ass, scooting to sit by Brock’s feet. “Who the hell is Bucky,” he said softly, still staring at Steve. 

Brock couldn’t help himself. He started to laugh. Hysteria and sleep deprivation made him want to start crying but he reigned it in with only a few sniffles.

Steve laughed too. “I didn’t know if that would still work. You alright?” 

Before Brock could answer, Steve’s phone rang. Steve left the room to speak to his caller.

Brock stroked his hand down the soldier’s chiselled jaw. “Hey baby. Commander could use a cuddle. Come on up, on my lap.”

Always wanting to please, even if he was grumpy, the Asset climbed onto his lap, snuggling into his shoulder, his nose in the curve of Brock’s neck. Brock relaxed, rubbing the strong, lean back. 

Steve came back, his face pale. “Brock,” his voice broke as he struggled for control. 

Brock knew immediately that Jack was gone. His gut felt like it was on fire. He saw black spots in front of his eyes. Desperately, he tightened his hold on the soldier on his lap. “Oh god. No.” Tears burned the back of his eyes but he couldn’t cry. It would upset the soldier. His baby was all he had left now. 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered brokenly, resting on the arm of the chair that Brock was sitting in. He gripped the commander’s shoulder, firmly, pulling him against his solid side. 

Brock had lost sense of everything except the weight of the man in his lap and the hand on his shoulder. He tried to stiffen his back, to sit up away from the captain’s comforting solidity, but it was too hard at this moment. Jack was gone. The one good friend he’d had in the last twenty years. And he hadn’t even been here. His gut hurt, his eyes stung, god, everything hurt all of a sudden, but Brock Rumlow didn’t show emotion. He was a soldier. Emotions were weak. Crying was for those that needed an outlet. Brock Rumlow didn’t cry. Ever. 

Except, when he did. 

Steve didn’t move from his place, letting Rumlow sag against him as sudden, harsh sobs burst out of him. 

Bucky wailed then too but Steve didn’t know what to do so he offered him the pacifier. The soldier took it, looking fearfully at his handler who was falling apart. His eyes were wide and terrified not understanding the tumultuous emotion rolling off of the commander.

Steve suddenly realized that Bucky was afraid of Brock being out of control and rubbed his shoulder. “It’s okay, baby. Commander will be okay.” To his shock, the soldier calmed immediately, looking at him now with big, trusting eyes, the last tears still tracking down his cheeks. He reached for Steve with his flesh hand. 

Brock calmed down after several minutes, settling into a morose silence, his eyes red. He’d let Bucky go when the soldier had started to squirm in his grasp. He was boundlessly grateful when Steve didn’t try to engage him in conversation. Obviously the captain knew what he was feeling. The shoulder squeezes when he walked by were comforting. He brought Brock a tall glass of coke and whiskey. Heavy on the whiskey. He enjoyed the burn of the alcohol as it slid smoothly down his throat. He wanted to ask how Jack had died but he didn’t know if he was ready to hear it. 

Bucky was bouncing again a little nervously. “Steve Rogers. Milk?”

Steve smiled. “Sure.” He retrieved a bottle, wondering if he should warm it but not wanting to disturb Brock. He warmed it enough to take the chill off. He felt a subtle, sweet happiness creep into him when the soldier cuddled into his side, bumping his head against Steve’s hand as he drank, wordlessly asking for affection. He stroked the soft dark hair, longer than Bucky used to have. The eyes, though guileless were very much Bucky’s. They were so blue. Changing shades like the ocean with his moods. 

Brock finished his drink, watching Steve with the soldier. “He won’t sleep on his own.” 

“I’ll take him to my bed,” Steve assured. “Why don’t you go try to get some rest.” 

“You want to change a diaper?” Brock asked with a sardonic smile. 

Steve shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. Go rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Feeling slightly confused at the sense of having someone to lean on, he blamed the alcohol for the warm fuzzies, Brock went to the bedroom Steve directed him to and fell across the bed, not bothering to do more than kick off his shoes. It entered his mind vaguely that Steve Rogers knew about being a friend. He closed his eyes, his body giving in to the desperate need for rest. 

Steve finished feeding Bucky and then noted that he looked tired as well. He took the pacifier from the coffee table. “Come with me,” he said, getting up. “Time for sleep.” 

Bucky obediently followed him to his bedroom, laying down when Steve instructed him to. 

Steve changed him, then gave him the pacifier and blanket that Brock had laid on the coffee table earlier. He gazed at Bucky, still hardly believing that he was here. He tucked him in then climbed in beside him.

Bucky stared back, a perplexed little frown between his eyebrows. He took his pacifier out and took one of Steve’s hands that were tucked up by the pillow. “Good boy?”

Steve smiled in amusement. “Yeah, Bucky. You’re a good boy.”  He jerked in slight shock when the soldier pulled his index finger into his mouth, sucking at it, his eyes drooping as he relaxed. 

Steve let him suck on his finger for another minute then gave him his paci again. “You’re Captain’s good boy.” 

The soldier paused for a second, smiled then snuggled into Steve’s shoulder. “Goo’ boy,” he murmured, drifting off to sleep. 

Steve watched him sleep, marvelling at the beauty of his features, the softness. Then his mind went to the man in the next room. A man that desperately needed a friend. Steve was good at being a friend. At least, he’d do his best. He was Cap. His best was pretty damn good. 


	12. Closure

When Brock woke up, he looked around, his memories hazy for a moment. The bed was soft and comfortable, even though he was still in the same place he’d fallen last night. He squinted at the window, at the sunlight peeping through the small space between the heavy blinds. It was daytime. 

He sat up slowly with a huff as his head throbbed, not just from a hangover, but also from the overwhelming emotion of last night. Memory was slowly sifting back to him. Jack was gone. His chest ached at the thought. Pierce was dead. That fact wasn’t upsetting. He was glad. Mercer? He had no idea. He thought people would probably still be looking for him. 

Getting out of bed stiffly, he stretched the kinks out of his back, then slowly opened the bedroom door to hear voices. Captain and the soldier were talking. 

He came to the living room, yawning and scrubbing his eyes with one hand. “Hey,” he said, his voice gravelly with disuse. 

“Good morning,” Steve greeted gently. “How do you feel?” 

The soldier looked uncertain. “Commander? Good?” 

Brock tried to give him a reassuring smile and failed. “Yeah baby. I’ll be okay. Could I take a shower?”

Steve nodded and directed him to the bathroom. “I gave Bucky a bath this morning. He was....he needed it.” 

“Sorry,” Brock said, understanding Steve’s unsaid explanation. He didn’t like changing soiled diapers either. It was just part of this.

“It’s alright,” Steve smiled. “It’ll just take some getting used to.” 

Bucky was still sitting nervously on the couch when Steve came back, right hand flapping a little. “Commander?” 

“He’s having a shower,” Steve said. “You’re okay.” 

Bucky frowned a little, stomping one foot and then quickly looking at Steve to see if he would be punished. 

Steve kept his gaze steady. “I know. You’re confused.” 

The soldier studied the captain openly, his eyes taking in every detail. “Steve Rogers. Not my mission. Friend.” He wiggled his flesh fingers on his lips in an insecure movement. 

Steve had put his pacifier on the bedside table, hoping to discourage its use during the day. Bucky was an adult. He didn’t understand why Rumlow had let him have such babyish items. He was also thinking about the formula he was getting. Surely....there was something else that was better for Bucky. 

The commander walked in, sweats riding low on his hips and a towel slung across his bare shoulders. “Thanks, Cap. For everything.”

Steve smiled. “You’re welcome. I owe you.”

Brock thought about that for a few minutes and shrugged into his black T-shirt. “Let’s just call it even. I’m not giving up my boy yet. I need him right now.”

Steve nodded, without saying anything. He had never gotten close to Rumlow because he’d been STRIKE and Steve had been Avengers Initiative. They’d done a few ops together. He wondered if it would have changed his view if he’d known beforehand that Brock was Hydra. The day in the elevator had been like a damn twilight zone episode! 

“What does Bucky eat?” He asked. 

Brock shook his head. “Doesn’t. He used to have these protein shakes but he’s refused them since I escaped with him.” 

“Can we try the formula in a cup?” Steve asked, trying not to sound too hard nosed. 

Rumlow smirked a bit. “Don’t like that I’ve babied the Asset?” 

“Frankly, it’s a little weird,” Steve said honestly. 

Brock shrugged. “He was so touch starved, I gave him what I could. I wasn’t allowed a lot of time with him.”

Steve suddenly understood what Rumlow was saying and stared at him wide eyed. “Were you the only one that touched him gently?” 

“Pretty much,” Brock mumbled, ruffling the soldier’s hair. “Hey buddy. Ready for milk?”

Bucky bounced excitedly. “Milk!”

Over a breakfast of fried eggs, pancakes and fruit, Brock and Steve talked about anything but what was on their minds. Was Hydra looking for Brock or Bucky? Were they in danger? What would they do with the soldier now? 

Steve watched as Bucky’s eyes followed every movement of Brock’s fork. He was drinking his bottle, his hand firmly wrapped in Brock’s shirt sleeve. 

Brock took a dab of whipped cream on his spoon and tapped the Asset’s cheek. “You want a taste?”

The bottle was dropped quickly and he opened his mouth, slurping at the spoon to get every last bit of sweetness. “More. Please.” His blue eyes pleaded with the commander.

Brock considered for a moment. “I know you’re gonna need more than just formula. I just don’t want you puking.” 

Steve thought about it. “What if we make him protein shakes here? Do you have any idea what was in them?”

Brock shook his head. “Nope. Pierce had them specially tailored to his body and specific needs.”

Steve nodded. “Gotcha. I’m thinking Bruce might be able to help.” Rumlow didn’t look upset by his suggestion so he pushed ahead. “If we can get some protein powder made for him, then maybe we can eventually get him eating food.”

Brock didn’t answer, but wagged his head in a ‘maybe’ motion. “His stomach is so fuckin’ sensitive, he throws up right away if it doesn’t agree with him.”

Steve looked down at his plate to hide the sentimental smile. “He’s always had a bit of a sensitive stomach. He liked his booze but he threw up a lot after a night of drinking.” 

Brock looked up. “Really? I thought that was a side effect of the..... um.....well that’s good to know. Jack and I used to talk about it a lot. We’d discuss it after he’d been wiped....” The commander trailed off here, working to swallow back emotion at the thought of Jack. 

Bucky pointed at Steve’s pancake. “Food. Please.”

Rumlow was lost in his own head so Steve cut a small bite and doused it in whipped cream. “Here baby.”  Bucky swallowed it without chewing and Steve grimaced. “Ya gotta chew, darlin. No wonder you get sick.” 

Bucky opened his mouth again. 

Steve gave him the last small piece. “All gone.”

This  time he chewed it twice before swallowing. He pushed his chair back with a clatter and jumped, his lower lip quivering at the noise. 

“Just the chair,” Steve said. 

Brock roused from his reverie. “Settle down. I need to find something for him to do or he’s gonna go crazy.” 

“Why don’t the three of us head to DC and you can get some closure.” Steve chewed his lip, wondering if Rumlow would want to go to DC already. 

The commander nodded after a moment. “That’s a good idea. Let’s go.”

It only took about half an hour to pack the few things Brock had brought and for Steve to throw clothes into a duffle bag. 

Bucky got buckled into the back seat with his little blanket and paci. Brock gave him his car. “Be good boy,” he said. “Going on a car ride.”

They hadn’t driven very far before Brock finally asked the question that had been haunting him since yesterday. “Do you know how Jack died?” 

Steve looked at him anxiously. “Brock...”   

“It can’t be any worse than what I’ve been imagining,” Brock said, his voice hoarse. He slashed away an errant tear that had escaped. “Was it fast? Did he suffer?”

Steve wanted to tell him so much that it had been immediate and painless. For once, he wished he could lie with a clear conscience. But he couldn’t. If it was him, he’d want the truth. “It wasn’t fast,” Steve stuttered out softly. “I’m so so sorry Brock. Are you sure you wanna hear?”

Rumlow felt his chest and stomach contract with those words. He shoulda been here for Jack... To at least hold his hand while he died. “I gotta hear. Even if it’s painful. Not knowing is making me insane.” 

“He fell off a helicarrier when one of Pierce’s guys shot him in the hip.” Steve fell silent, gauging the man’s ability to process the information. 

Brock groaned a little. Pain. So much pain. He’d been shot close to the hip before. “So he landed in the water? Not surprised Pierce turned on him.”

Steve’s face was sad. “Yeah. I guess Sam saw him fall and pulled him out. He knew he was Hydra but Jack was barely breathing.”  He stopped. “You want me to go on?”

 Brock frowned. “Sam? Like, Falcon? He tried to save Jack?” 

Steve sighed. “Yeah. That Sam. He told Natasha the whole story and she told me yesterday.

Sam saw what Jack was trying to do so when he fell, he went after him. Jack lost too much blood by the time he got him out. Sam stayed with him. Held his hand and promised he’d tell Jack’s best friend he was glad he’d followed his heart.”

“How did you figure out that best friend was me?” Brock was talking through tears now, letting them slide down his cheeks, swiping at them every so often with his arm. 

“Before the chaos happened, Jack  found out Insight was starting a war, so he started working to stop Pierce.

He talked to Bruce three days ago, said his best friend had Bucky and he wanted us to help him. That’s why Sam called you couple days ago.” Steve stopped talking, crying silently, in sympathy. 

Brock cried for several long minutes before he finally gained control. “Jack was a good guy.”

Steve agreed. 

They got to DC and drove past the Triskelion, where it was oddly quiet, still recovering from its recent events. 

Brock rubbed his red eyes and drove to the Hydra base. It had an air of abandonment. He shivered at the creepy feel. 

Bucky, however got excited. “Commander! Home!” 

“No baby. Not home. Commander needs to find something. You stay here with Captain.” He got out, eyes roving to check for any sign of life. 

Rumlow slowly walked into the empty base, feeling a sort of desolation fill him. He hated it! All he wanted was the Asset’s leash and the diapers and the shake powder.  Maybe they could encourage him to take it. He hurried through the empty hallways and quickly got the things he’d come for. On his way out, he heard a noise and stopped, heart pounding. It came again from the lab where the chair was. 

With silent steps he walked to the door and looked in the small round window. Bile rose in his throat and he vomited onto the floor, retching violently. Someone, presumably Pierce, had put one of the agents in the chair and the agent had obviously died from the treatment. His body was trembling with rigour mortis, straining at the restraints. 

Brock ran for the exit, not looking back. 

Steve saw his face was ashen when scrambled into the car. “You okay?”

Brock shook his head, peeling out of the parking lot. 

He stopped at his apartment first. Got a bunch of clean clothes in a duffle bag and got his toiletries. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. 

Then, he went to Jack’s house. His car was still in Jack’s garage. It felt like eons ago. He carefully transferred the luggage and other stuff from Jack’s car to his own, then put the soldier in the back and he and Steve climbed into the front.

He carefully parked the old car back in the garage when he had backed out, hanging the keys on the hook. He looked around. Old comfy couch where they’d shared a hundred beers and jokes over the years. The ping pong table. Jack had beat him every time. So many good times. The ghostly echoes of their laughter rang in his ears. He patted the hood of the car and walked out closing the door. 

He wasn’t going to look back. He couldn’t afford to. Life was going to keep marching. He could either move with it or stand still and die. 

Brock Rumlow was not one to give up and die. He was a soldier.  Even when life sucked, you had to push on. 

Steve told him to go to the Avengers tower. They would be safe there for the until tomorrow. 

Brock was uncomfortable but the team of heroes mostly left him alone after saying hi. Sam offered condolences and then everyone except Steve disappeared. 

Steve took him to what was apparently his floor. 

“Why the hell are you still staying in New York if you’ve got this place here?” He demanded. 

Steve smiled, “Honestly? It made me feel closer to Bucky. Now....I dunno. I’ve got him here.” 

“I’d like to keep him close,” Brock said softly. “He’s my only sanity right now.”

Steve understood. “Stay here with me for a few days yet. Bucky needs you and I want to get to know him too.”

Brock thought it over. “Okay.” 

That evening after dinner, Brock lay on the bed in the guest room, alongside the soldier, stroking the long hair and singing their song softly. 

For the first time in almost a week, the Asset relaxed, cuddling into Brock’s chest as he drank his milk. He made happy noises,  nuzzling under Brock’s chin. 

Brock found himself relaxing too, finally. He’d needed this, some time to cuddle and dote on his Soldier. 

The soldier turned sleepy eyes on him. “Mander?” 

“What baby?” He asked, a smile softening his face.

“Goo’ boy.” He put his flesh index finger against the commander’s lips. 

Brock chuckled and kissed the digit. “Thank you sweetie. You always make me feel better.”

The soldier smiled behind his bottle then gave in to the sleepy heaviness that overtook him. 

Brock watched him sleep for awhile before putting his own head down and closing his eyes. Good boy. Yes. Something told him growing up with Steve Rogers had a lot to do with Bucky being a good boy.

Tomorrow he would try and introduce Steve to his best friend. 


	13. Green Monster

Steve couldn’t sleep. His mind was on Bucky and on what Hydra had put him through. He wondered why Brock Rumlow had saved the Winter Soldier at the expense of his own career and, most likely, life, if Hydra hadn’t fallen. What would Brock do if the remnants of Hydra caught up with him? 

Bucky was clearly not independent. The diapers, the lack of speech, even the fact that he didn’t eat properly. The brainwashing had done something to him. He felt like maybe having Brock here wasn’t really helping Bucky because the commander insisted on babying him. Steve thought he maybe understood. Maybe not. He had feelings like he’d had back in the thirties when Bucky would bring girls home. The desperate desire to be the only important person in Bucky’s life.

Steve wanted Bucky back. He didn’t want Brock to have Bucky anymore. He knew what he’d said but the feelings were tormenting him. Did Bucky even consent to being....intimate, with Brock? Bucky hardly talked. Maybe Steve could just tell him that Bucky was _**his**_. Steve knew he wanted Bucky and he would dig through that programming and brainwashing to find him. 

These thoughts kept him awake till well into the wee hours of the morning. He tossed and turned. He didn’t know what he could do to make Brock understand who Bucky had been before. The Commander was grieving as well. Steve felt guilty about wanting Bucky to himself, then gritted his teeth in frustration as once more the thoughts see sawed back and forth; desire versus obligation. 

He finally got up at five after dozing for an hour and went for a run. When he got back at six, his houseguests were still sleeping. The run had helped air out some of his frustrations. 

As he showered, he thought of ways he could do both. They just had to work out a schedule. People did it all the time these days. Poly relationships were common. Let Brock have his soldier time and Steve could have Bucky time. He tried to ignore the jealousy that burned in his gut at the thought. He slipped into jeans and a T-shirt then started coffee. 

He carefully read the instructions on the large container of shake powder that Brock had brought from the Hydra base. Maybe he could help with Bucky’s care too. A soft noise made him turn. 

Brock stood there, sleepily trying to get his shirt on. Spying the container in Steve’s hand he said, “He’s still sleepin. Best to make it when he’s ready to eat.” 

Steve nodded, feeling a familiar stab of envy that this man knew Bucky’s feeding schedule so intimately. “I was just reading the instructions.”

Brock took the container. “It’s pretty sensitive. I’ll make it.”

Steve turned away to hide his annoyance at the statement. “You want pancakes or omelettes?” 

“Omelettes sound great,” Brock said politely. He sensed Steve’s annoyance but didn’t care. Having spent the night with the Asset had brought back the protective feelings strongly. 

A small broken whine sounded and they both turned to find Bucky standing at the kitchen entrance. His hair was sleep mussed and he was still nuzzling his blanket, sucking on his binky. He was dressed in only his diaper which was unmistakably soaked. 

Brock patted his knee. “Hi baby boy. Come sit with commander.”

Steve paused a second then smiled brightly. “Morning Bucky. Steve has breakfast cooking!”

Bucky perked up. “Food?” He offered Steve his pacifier and pointed at his mouth. “Good boy?” He reached for Steve’s hand.

Steve took the pacifier and let Bucky suck his finger. 

Brock scowled. “Soldier! Come here!”

Bucky immediately pulled back, eyes darting to the commander. He hurried to his side, head down.

Brock directed his anger at Steve. “He can’t eat that! He’ll get sick!” 

Steve smiled tightly. “How do you know? You’ve probably never tried.” 

Brock quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve been looking after him for twenty fucking years!” 

“And I was friends with him for twelve years before the war!” Steve shot back. “And he wasn’t frozen for any of it!”

Bucky looked from one to the other, his eyes frightened. “Food?” He asked in a small voice. His hands flapped gently and he bounced on his toes. 

Steve took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Brock. That was uncalled for. I want so badly to have Bucky back I forget I have to be patient.”

Brock still looked put out but nodded his acceptance of the apology. “I’m not trying to hog him. I just...I know what he needs.”

Steve eyed the diaper. “You wanna make his shake while I change him?” 

Brock looked like he was going to argue but then shrugged. “Okay.”

Steve took Bucky to his bed and lay him on it. “Time to change this soggy diaper!” 

Bucky giggled when Steve blew a raspberry on his belly button. So, Steve did it again, just to hear that little giggle. 

Brock came to the doorway, watching carefully. “Don’t get him too riled.” 

Steve rolled his eyes but changed the wet diaper. “All done.” He patted the soldier’s thigh.

Bucky bounced out to the living room, ignoring the argument brewing.

“Don’t you ever just laugh with him?” Steve asked.

“Emotions are hard for him. He wasn’t allowed feelings.” Brock’s voice was hard. “I have to be careful not to overstimulate him.”

Steve was unaccountably frustrated with the former Hydra agent’s stubbornness. “Maybe he _NEEDS_ to be stimulated! It might help him get past the programming.”

Brock narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know anything about my soldier! Back off, Rogers!” 

“Your soldier?” Steve asked, eyes snapping. “Thought He was _Hydra’s._ Why’d you bring him here,  _Rumlow_?” Steve ground out, hot jealousy lacing every word with fire. 

Brock suddenly realized Steve was envious too and a slow smile spread across his face. “You’re jealous. It makes you jealous that I know the soldier intimately and you don’t.” 

Steve wanted to deny it so badly. He wanted to throw it back in Rumlow’s face, but he couldn’t. The truth was there, naked and black in its ugliness. Steve didn’t get jealous. He never had; unless it involved Bucky. Only Bucky and his steady slew of girls had evoked these strong feelings of painful envy and jealousy. They’d been together for a short while, but then Bucky had gone to war. Knowing that Brock had taken that place with Bucky made him a deep ugly shade of green. He wanted to apologize but it wouldn’t mean anything. Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly. “Knowing you have, sex...” he stumbled over the word with the ferocity of his emotions. “With Bucky is just painful. We had each other....back then.” He choked. 

Brock's look turned from a smirk to shock. “Sex?? No! No no no no no!! Not ever!” 

Steve slowly scanned the commander’s face to seek the truth. “No?”

Brock shook his head. “No. He’s my baby. Never. I could never do that. I just like taking care of him.”

Freedom coursed through the tightness in Steve’s chest and he suddenly gave way to a sharp laugh accompanied by tears. “Oh! That -that makes me feel better. I’m sorry Brock. I should’ve cleared it up instead of being an ass.”

The commander rolled his eyes. “You’re too good, ya know? The soldier needs to remember if he can.” 

“I’d like to help,” Steve said sheepishly. “What can I do?”

Brock smiled a little. “He loves music. I have a song I sing to him.”

Steve looked towards the old record player in the corner of his living room. “Bucky used to dance.” 

“He’s probably forgotten but he learns. Especially with a little positive reinforcement.” Brock grinned. 

Steve smiled. “Alright! Teach me?”

Brock only hesitated a moment before holding his hand out to the older man. “Sure.”

Steve shook his hand firmly. “Good.”

A loud crash followed by a piercing howl startled both of them.

Brock and Steve hurried into the living room to see what had happened. 

Bucky was standing in the middle of a mess of dirt and broken pottery, holding the remains of Steve’s spider plant. He whimpered and whined, looking guiltily at Brock. There was dirt on his face as well as several chewed up leaves on his T-shirt.  He slowly brought the plant to his mouth and bit another leaf off.

“Dammit!” Brock exploded. “Can’t leave you alone for ten fucking minutes!” 

Steve looked at Brock. “Umm... Are spider plants toxic?”

Brock huffed out a loud sigh. “Why are you eating a damn house plant??” 

Bucky dropped the plant and was going to step away but Steve quickly stopped him. “You’re gonna cut your feet.” He lifted Bucky over the mess and held him gently, wiping at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “You like dirt?” 

“Food.” Bucky smiled, revealing a mouthful of dirt and leaves. 

“Spit it out,” Steve said calmly. “We’ll get you other food.” He chuckled. “I’ll wash his mouth out. You wanna pick up the glass?”

Brock nodded. “Sure. Gosh. He’s such an idiot sometimes!” 

Steve carried Bucky to the bathroom and set him on the counter. “Was the dirt good?” 

“Good boy,” Bucky said, reaching for the washcloth Steve was wetting down. 

“Open your mouth,” Steve instructed, doing his best to wipe out the mess when the soldier complied. “You can’t eat plants. Okay?” 

“Good boy?” Bucky asked hesitantly once his mouth was clean. 

“Yes,” Steve said, kissing his nose. “Just don’t eat plants. You’ll get sick.” 

Bucky nodded. “Captain.”

Steve carried him to the kitchen where Brock had put his shake on the table. He sat Bucky on a chair and put the shake in front of him. 

Bucky glanced at it, then looked at Steve. “Mission failed.” His eyes grew fearful. “Mission failed.”

Steve thought for a moment. “Bud, it’s okay. Look.” He took a sip out of the straw and nearly gagged. It was disgusting! But it was what Bucky needed. “Mmm! Good boy!!” He got the pacifier that was on the counter from before. “Your turn!” He held the shake out to Bucky. 

The Asset trembled but put his lips to the straw slightly, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face. A tiny sip was followed by a quick flinch back. 

“Good boy!” Steve praised softly, giving him the paci. 

Bucky looked thoroughly confused. He put the binky in his mouth, still watching Steve. 

Brock was watching from the living room. Steve was going to do it. He was breaking the programming! Unfortunately that opened a lot of other feelings for Brock. Steve was adapting to Bucky’s needs. What if Bucky wanted Steve more now?

Steve gently pulled the pacifier from his lips. “More shake.” He held the straw to Bucky’s lips. This time, the soldier drank more, still eyeing the captain, aware of every movement, awaiting punishment but finding his hunger. 

Steve let a soft litany of praise fall from his lips, knowing the soldier heard his words even if he didn’t understand them all. 

When the shake was gone, Bucky got a bottle of milk and his blanket. Steve had thrown out the ruined omelettes from earlier and made fresh ones.

Brock was quiet as they ate, watching as the Asset drank his milk and twisted his fingers in Steve’s T-shirt. He needed to share the soldier. It just wasn’t that easy. Steve had admitted to his jealousy. Brock couldn’t. It was a weakness he didn’t want to admit to! It was probably something else! He’d had a lot of stuff going on! But deep inside, the thought of Steve having the soldier intimately did make Brock feel uncomfortably jealous. He wanted to be the only person in Bucky’s life. The one person that mattered. 

He was afraid that Bucky might remember Steve. He might remember what they had. He might remember that Brock was Hydra. What Brock was really truly afraid of was that the soldier wouldn’t need him anymore. He wanted to be needed. 


	14. Who Cares?

Brock was quiet after breakfast, sitting on the sofa with his fingers knotted, thinking about the things that had happened and where he was now. He had two options, really. He could take the Asset and run again. Knowing how much it would hurt Steve however made that option much less viable, or; he could find a place here, with the Avengers. Stay close to the Soldier and become friends. But why would they care? No one cared about Brock Rumlow, except maybe Bucky in his own way. 

The thought of making friends wasn’t all that interesting or appealing to Brock. He didn’t make friends easily. He’d grown up fast and learned not to trust people.

It occurred to him in that moment, that he really only had the soldier. Even though he couldn’t really reciprocate love, Brock didn’t have to worry about losing him. That was why he didn’t want to give him up. It would be like tearing a part of his soul away.

Jack’s death had already torn a hole in him. Losing the soldier would be a blow he didn’t know if he could come back from. He watched the soldier for a moment. 

Bucky was intently watching a show about fish. The nature documentary was covering the feeding and mating habits of whales and sharks. His face was screwed up in concentration, much like when he was learning something new. Brock wondered if the inactivity was making him crazy too. He had to contact SHIELD. 

Steve came into the living room, glancing at Brock and then Bucky. “You okay, Brock?” 

The Commander shrugged. He could never reveal his private struggles. “Sure. I’m fine.” Civility, with just a slight touch of sass. Hardly noticeable really. 

Steve gave a small nod. “Good. Hey Bucky. Come to Captain. I want to show you some pictures.” 

Brock forced himself to stay in his seat. He had to give Steve room to interact. 

The soldier reluctantly turned from the tv. “Sharks are skilled hunters. They eat dolphins, rays and other fish. Whales eat smaller marine life such as plankton and krill that live in the nutrient rich water of a whale’s habitat.” 

“That’s great to know, Buck,” Steve enthused. “Does a shark swallow his prey whole?”

The Asset processed that for a moment then intoned, “The shark may swallow his prey whole or chew through larger fish or mammals with his strong jaws.”

Steve studied him. “You learned all that just from watching the show?” 

Brock smiled a little. “He’s smart. Just not in keeping himself safe and taken care of.” 

Steve grinned. “YouTube! He can learn so much!”

Brock was going to protest. He wanted to. He didn’t want his baby to grow and change. He frowned and studied his hands instead. He should want to help Bucky get better. It wasn’t fair to the soldier. With a soft sigh he nodded. “That should work. He’s a very visual and tactile learner.” It always worked that way. No one cared about what Brock wanted. 

Steve showed Bucky his tablet screen. “Look, bud. This is a video about getting dressed.” 

Bucky watched the five minute video and then looked at Steve. “No thank you.”

Brock quickly swallowed his laughter and then couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Correction. He learns fast when he’s made to or wants to.”

Steve put his head back and let a merry roar of laughter out. “That’s my Bucky. Stubborn and contrary.” 

Brock nodded. “He’s a stinker.”

Bucky smiled a little. “No. Fish.”

Steve wiped his eyes, still chuckling. “Fish?”

Brock started tittering again. “The winter Fish.” 

Bucky wasn’t exactly sure what was going on but there seemed to be a game of some sort happening. “Commander Fish.” 

This made Steve laugh again and Brock lost it. He hadn’t laughed like this since...well, since Jack had made him lasagna for his birthday and forgot the noodles. It felt good. Felt amazing to laugh freely. “What the hell is that, Bucky? Commander Fish?” 

Bucky giggled. “Captain what the hell is Bucky Fish?” 

“He’s malfunctioning,” Brock said gleefully, trying to calm the hysterics that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Steve took some deep breaths. “He’s being a goofball.”

Bucky paused. “Abcdefghijkl. Letter of the day is D.” He came and sat down next to Brock. “Home?”

Brock looked at Steve then only hesitated a minute before nodding. “Ya bud, yeah. You’re home.”

Steve’s eyes filled with immediate tears. “Sorry. I’m not cryin’. Brock, you’re home too! I’m just really happy!”

Brock chuckled. “I don’t think I can ever live without the soldier. I’m gonna talk to Fury and see if I can do something around here.” 

Steve sobered immediately and tapped his lip. “SHIELD is gone too. There’s nothing. I talked to Tony though. He’ll let you stay here.”

Brock looked skeptical. “Why?” Inside he was starting to panic. No SHIELD? What the hell was he gonna do??

Steve shrugged. “Because sometimes friendship is about more than using people for what they can give you. It’s about trusting people to like you.”

Brock smirked a little. “Nice speech.” He got up. “I’ll stay a few more days till he’s more settled and then I’ll find my way. I’ll come back often.” 

Bucky  flapped slightly, a sign that he was anxious. “Going away?” 

“You’ll be alright here, buddy. You’ve got Cap.” Brock smiled. 

He had never known anything except organized teamwork.  Escaping with the soldier had been necessary but uncomfortable. 

Now Steve was telling him that there was no place for him to fit in. He and the soldier were like broken pieces in a confusing puzzle. 

Steve got up and sat beside him and put an arm firmly around his shoulders. “Maybe, it’s time to let down your guard, trust people, make friends. I understand what it’s like to be a soldier without an army. It’s lonely. But, Brock, you’re not alone.” 

Brock sat there in Steve’s embrace for a few moments before softly starting to cry. No one had ever really cared what Brock needed. Jack tried but they were both people with baggage who didn’t understand how to care too deeply. His mom, she’d needed care. 

He couldn’t say exactly why he was crying but the tears refused to stop. 

Steve held him the entire time, not saying anything except to encourage him that this was good. 

After half an hour of super soldier cuddling where _he_ was the cuddlee, Brock felt different; new, lighter, like something hard and painful had finally broken and all the poison had poured out of his eyes. 

“Can I go shower?” He asked, his voice thick from crying. 

Steve kissed his forehead. “Yes. It’ll help.” 

Brock touched the spot where Steve had kissed him over and over as he walked to the bathroom. No one had cared for so long....he didn’t want to wash the spot. Would Steve kiss it again if he accidentally washed it? He smiled at his musings as he started the water. 

Just in case, he covered the spot with his finger as he stepped under the hot spray. 


	15. The Way We Are

Brock stood under the spray until his skin prickled from the heat. He’d let his hand drop and put his face in the spray, letting every stress and care of the past week wash away with the water. 

He soaped up, lathering himself luxuriously with the rich, balsam scented body wash. He washed his hair afterwards and finally turned the water off, letting the steam waft around him. His life was rising from the ashes again, taking a turn. 

He got out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He wiped the steam from the mirror and studied his reflection. There were the subtle beginnings of grey at his temples. He’d been so sure, twenty years ago, that by this point he’d be at the top of the ladder. He wasn’t even on the fucking ladder. It had crumbled under him like dry sand. 

It startled him a little to realize suddenly, he didn’t care. He was getting to a point in life where he wanted things to change. He wanted to have something bigger than a career. Especially a career that was nonexistent. He gently touched the spot where Steve had kissed his forehead. He was smart enough to know it didn’t matter but he wished it hadn’t washed away. 

Brock’s musings were cut short when there was a knock on the door. “Yeah?” 

“Bucky is wondering if you drowned.” Steve said with a chuckle. 

“Tell ‘im I turned into a fish,” Brock shot back, a grin breaking over his face. 

He got dressed and ran a towel over his hair. Bucky was going to be okay, just like him. 

Steve went back to the kitchen where Bucky was sitting on a chair, waiting anxiously. “He’s alright, Bud. He’ll be out in a few minutes.” 

“Steve,” Bucky said. “Food. Milk.” 

“Milk?” Steve asked, opening the fridge. 

Bucky slid off his chair, joining Steve at the fridge. He pointed to one of the bottles of formula. “Please?”

Steve smiled. “Okay. Are you spoiled?” 

Bucky made a pouty face. “Milk!”

Steve got a bottle. “Patience. I gotta warm it up.”

Tears formed in Bucky’s eyes when Steve walked away from him. “Milk.” He held out his hand.”

Brock walked in at that moment. “Hey. No need for tears, bud. You’ll get your milk.”

“Just a couple minutes.” Steve smiled at the impatient man child, plopping the bottle into a cup of hot water. 

Brock chewed his lip then asked, “Uh Steve?” 

“Yep?” Steve shook the bottle a bit to mix the warm and cold milk. When Brock didn’t say anything he turned around. “What did you need?”

Brock’s face tinged pink and he avoided Steve’s face. “Your kiss washed off in the shower,” he mumbled quietly. 

Steve bit his lip to stop the smile. He stepped over and replaced the kiss on the Commander’s forehead, figuring it had been a long time since the man had felt loved. “That one should be permanent. But if it washes off I can give you another one.”

Brock blushed darker, somewhat ashamed that he wanted that small loving touch; craved it. 

He patted the soldier’s back to distract himself. “Thank you.” He fidgeted for a moment. “I think Bucky needs changing.” 

“You want me to take this one?” Steve asked, 

Brock shrugged. “I think you took the last poopy diaper. I’ll change him. C’mon stinker.” 

“No!” Bucky protested. “Milk!” 

“Change first, then milk,” Brock promised. 

Steve turned away to hide his smile as Bucky pouted but followed the commander to the bedroom. 

Several minutes later, Bucky had his head in Steve’s lap, drinking his milk. “Cap’ain. Milk.” He patted his bottle, dribbling formula down his chin.

The commander tossed a Kleenex Steve’s way. “I don’t know why he insists on talking with his mouth full.”

Steve blushed hotly. “Habit, probably.”

Brock took a moment to think about it then raised an eyebrow. “So you guys really had a thing way back when.” He shook his head smiling. 

Steve laughed a little. “Yeah.” He stroked Bucky’s hair. “He’s probably not gonna remember it and that’s okay. I’m just so glad to have him back.”

Brock looked at Steve for a long moment. “He doesn’t remember much. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not that important,” Steve said seriously. “I’m not a young, love hungry kid anymore. I love Bucky, but not just for what he can do. I love him for who he is.” 

Brock figured that was the embodiment of Captain America right there. Wholesome, sweet, good. Looking after others. He felt good around Steve. “Why do you always care about others?” He touched his forehead again as a reminder. 

Steve thought a moment. “I dunno. I guess it’s just something that I need to do.”

Brock let it go. He was lucky Steve was such a great guy! 

After lunch, Brock put Bucky down for a nap and then came back out to the living room. 

Steve was frowning darkly at his sketch book. 

“Is everything okay?” Brock asked softly.

Steve shrugged. “Yeah. I just- I’m lookin’ at this drawing of Bucky and I can’t figure out what’s missing.”

Brock came around behind Steve and looked critically at the open sketch pad. The picture was beautiful. Bucky sleeping, hand tucked under his cheek, his perfect lips drawn into a small smile. 

Steve stared at it. “What am I forgetting?” 

“You,” Brock said. “He’d never smile in his sleep like that unless he felt safe. He only feels safe with one of us beside him.”

Steve cocked his head to one side, studying the drawing. “You and me, huh?” 

Brock shrugged. “He doesn’t know any different.” 

Steve started to draw again, pencil scratching against the paper as he worked to complete the art he could feel in his head. 

Brock settled back, closing his eyes. The sound of Steve drawing and the soft murmur of the tv was pulling him into a sense of peace. He didn’t have to watch his back here anymore. 

He must have dozed off because he suddenly felt a hand on his arm, startling him.  His eyes flew open. It was Steve, holding up the finished product. 

Brock reached for it and was taken aback when Steve smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hand. A warmth like liquid gold filled him. He slowly looked up. 

Steve smiled. “This drawing is for you.”

Brock turned it over as Steve walked towards his bedroom. 

In the bed now, there was Steve, Bucky and Brock. 

Steve and Brock had their arms protectively crossed over Bucky as he slept. 

In Steve’s curling script he’d written, “My Family” in one corner. Brock tried to swallow and couldn’t past the giant ball of happy tears that were stuck there. 

He had never had much of a family. For twenty years, the soldier had been his baby. 

Brock was finally able to swallow again and hugged the picture to him gently. He wanted to frame it, but he also wanted to put it somewhere private where no one else would see it because it was so intimate. 

Being a part of Hydra, he realized, had been as close to family as he’d come. That was fucking screwed. 

He drank the picture in, a smile taking over his face and tears dripping onto his thighs. He was freaking crying, and smiling and he wanted to laugh, and hug Steve and Bucky. All at once. Something was seriously wrong with him.... 

No.  Something was finally, totally right with him. 

He got up. He’d stay if it meant he could feel like this forever. With Steve to help him, maybe Bucky could recover at least somewhat.  

So many things to look forward to! 

He heard the Asset whimper. As he neared the bedroom, he heard Steve say, “Hi baby. Nice nap?”

Brock giggled softly. Yeah. This was gonna work. It wasn’t the end. It was just beginning. 


End file.
